Evolutions BOOK I
by AlbertG
Summary: The Battlestar Galactica and its fleet have finally made it to Federation space. So have the Cylons and the nightmare begins.
1. Interference

Title: Evolutions   
Author: Albert Green Jr.  
Contact: g3607273@uic.edu  
Series: TNG   
Part: NEW 1/? 6-5-2001  
Rating: PG  
Codes: x-over: Battlestar Galactica  
Summary: The survivors of the Battlestar Galactica and its   
Fleet have finally made it to the Alpha quadrant. But so   
have the Cylons.  
  
  
  
NOTICE: THIS STORY MAY BE DISTRIBUTED FREE OF CHARGE BUT  
MUST NOT BE SOLD OR EXCHANGED FOR FINANCIAL RETURN IN ANY   
FORM.   
  
---------------------COPYRIGHT/DISCLAIMER NOTICE-----------  
This story, "Evolutions" by Albert Green and using characters   
created by author Louis Miller, is a figment of this author's  
imagination. All Characters portrayed in this story, are   
fictional and do not reflect actual people, either living or   
deceased.  
  
"Star Trek", "Star Trek: The Next Generation", "Star Trek:   
Deep   
Space Nine", "Star Trek: Voyager", and "Star Trek: First   
Contact", and all related Star Trek related material, it's   
characters and certain technological devices and/or references   
to such, from the television shows and movies, may be or   
are registered trademarks of, and may be or are copyrighted   
by Paramount Studios and whatever Corporation it may or may   
not be owned by.  
  
"Battlestar Galactica", it's characters, and certain   
technological devices and/or references to such, from the   
television show, past present of near future, may be or are   
registered trademarks of, and may be or are copyrighted by   
the Universal Studios Corporation and any new owners in the   
future.  
  
Neither Studio is responsible for the content of this story.  
  
THIS STATEMENT MUST ACCOMPANY THE STORY 'EVOLUTIONS.' IF  
DISTRIBUTED. THIS STORY IS FREE OF CHARGE AND MAY NOT BE  
SOLD OR EXCHANGED FOR FINANCIAL RETURN IN ANY FORM. THIS   
DEDICATION MUST ACCOMPANY ANY DISTRUBUTION OF THIS STORY.  
  
Synopsis: The Battlestar Galactica and Pegasus, along with   
their charges, the remnants of the twelve Colonies have   
discovered tantalizing clues of the possibility of humans  
located in the Alpha quadrant. With vital equipment slowly   
breaking down and a new generation of warriors growing up   
knowing nothing but war and flight, the fleet may have   
finally found the security they're looking for. However the   
Cylon Empire has discovered Earth, its colonies, Bajorans,   
Betazoids, Deltans and countless other races whose humanoid   
features have marked them for extinction. A Federation task   
force, led by Jean Luc Picard, is desperate to avoid another   
costly war, but they may not have a choice as the Cylons   
prepare for a first strike against Earth. Be careful what   
you ask for.  
  
  
Dedication  
First of all, I have to thank B.J. Thomas who wrote 'Dark Dawn'  
and 'Deceptions' in 1994. I had no intentions doing anything  
related to Star Trek or Galactica however what I read inspired  
me to write this story. When I began I simply couldn't stop   
with all the things going on in the various Star Trek histories  
and incarnations. Plus the fact that the Galactica tale needed   
completion compelled me to add my own take on this. Mr. Louis   
Miller's story involving the Khe Sahn and its crew fit so well   
with my ideas that I begged him to let me use a few of his   
characters, which he graciously consented. Thank you, thank   
you, and thank you again.  
  
Several other authors have done variations of this storyline,   
so I had to come up with a different perspective that would be  
interesting but true to both shows and not repeat what so many   
others have so successfully done. I call the story 'Evolutions'  
because things constantly change, and not necessarily for the  
better. But this is what makes life interesting, or so I've  
been told.  
  
This is my first attempt at something like this, so be merciful,   
but not too much. If you wish, I would like for you to contact   
me with comments, critiques, etc. Next to the story, the biggest   
challenge has been typing. Thank God for the PC.  
  
Albert Green Jr.  
G3607273@uic.edu  
  
  
  
EVOLUTIONS  
  
Prologue   
  
"I told you this would be wonderful," Q said to his son, Q.   
"Nothing beats sun bathing in a sun's core. Those gamma rays  
really make the old nuclei tingle."  
  
His son Q merely looked at his father. "We've done this so   
Many times before," he replied. "It gets boring after a   
while. I don't understand why you find this so relaxing.   
It's not like it's different each time," he complained.  
  
Q looked at his son. Like him Q had extended his corporeal   
being to circle the star itself. Waves of solar radiation   
caressed them both as harmlessly as a mother would hold her   
newborn child. Radiation, fire, heat, energy meant nothing   
to them. They were Q. The Q were power personified. They   
could do anything they wished. To them the past, present,   
or alternate futures were merely concepts to play with.   
They understood everything. They knew everything. Except  
how to raise one obnoxious, spoiled baby, with the powers   
of the Q. Now that was beyond them.   
  
"Of course it's different each time," his father countered.   
"Each star has its own ambience. But you're young. You   
won't be able to fully appreciate that for another thousand   
years or so."  
  
"Then why is it that Amanda can't tell the difference?   
She's older than I."  
  
"Amanda isn't even thirty yet. Besides she's a not a real   
Q, not in the since you are." Even as he said it he realized   
that what he'd said wasn't strictly true. She was born of Q   
parents and even though she was emotionally bonded to her   
human form, she retained all the powers of the Q. The problem   
was that she had been around humans too long. Even now she   
still thought like them. But there was something about her   
that reminded him of his son and it had taken him some time   
to understand the truth behind it.  
  
She was young. Just like his son. They were both equal, just  
different. The future for those two would be...interesting.   
He wondered if anyone else in the Q continuum understood the  
possibilities for them all in the future. But Amanda was   
stable, maturing both as an adult and a Q equally.   
  
But Q was something else.  
  
"Trelane said he couldn't tell the difference from one star  
to another either and he's been around for years," Q retorted.   
  
"Stay away from him," Q yelled, his form slowly condensing   
to his preferred humanoid form. He was still transparent but   
his energy patterns could be clearly defined by his son.   
"He's a bad influence on you. I don't want you on his side   
of the block. Trelane's people are almost on our level, but   
not quite, so leave...them...alone. We need to maintain the   
peace with them."  
  
"I can't play with Trelane," his son growled. "I can't play   
with the Borg, can't do this, can't do..."  
  
His son would never understand, but Trelane was to Q as Q was   
to Picard. Trelane was an irritant, a pain in the neck,   
a kick in the eternal butt, a sore on the lips and anything   
else one could think of and you couldn't get rid of him. He   
was like a fly. He even had his own Enterprise to play with,   
an old one to be sure but a real one nevertheless. Inwardly   
though, Q was laughing silently. He wondered if Jean Luc   
would appreciate the irony? "Be patient son. All things come   
to he who waits."  
  
"You're never patient," his son retorted. "You do anything   
you want."  
  
"That's not true," Q replied. "I can't go anywhere without   
you. In fact the Q have said that I can't go anywhere without   
you. Forever."  
  
That was Q's punishment for acting like a kid. His father,   
Q would have to be with him to keep an eye on him for   
eternity. Or, until he matured into a responsible Q. Just   
like his daddy.  
  
"Father, do you hate me?" his son asked. He was giving him   
that look, again.   
  
Q was all-powerful, but when it came to his son he was   
completely helpless. Yep, love could really be a curse.   
"No. Never. I guess we'll learn to be responsible.   
Together. Speaking of which, here they come."  
  
Q pointed to his left. Both he and his son were in their   
Chosen humanoid forms, floating effortlessly at the edge of   
the star's corona.   
  
"Not the Galactica again," his son groaned. "How many times  
and in how many realities have we seen this? They make it   
to the Federation, those stupid Cylons start a fight and they  
lose," his son said. "And why are they so late in our   
reality? Talk about boring." The look he gave his father   
radiated a mix between exasperation and nausea. "What is   
your obsession with these people?"  
  
"What's your obsession with Voyager and the humans there?"   
  
Silence.  
  
"Ha." Q felt so smug. "It's called infinite diversity in   
infinite combinations. More importantly, this time it's our   
reality. What you're about to witness here will change   
everything for the Federation and everyone they've contacted   
so far. This is the beginning. Oh, how stunned Katherine   
and Jean Luc would be if they had a clue as to how the   
Galactica and Federation humans were truly related," he   
whispered with glee. "Oh the upheaval! Oh the chaos!"  
  
"Tell me another one, father," his son said quietly. "You've  
been obsessed with them ever since you saw him and your   
counterpart go to war for the fate of humanity in that other  
reality. Your counterpart Q almost lost and you've wanted   
to try your hand against him ever since."  
  
"True Q, but its more than that," he said. "Humans strive  
and fail, they strive some more. No matter how pitiful   
they are they continue to strive." That's what frightens   
me, he thought. "That's what intrigues me," he said. "Their  
future and ours are linked. Think about it, if they had been   
defeated just one year later then they would have found Earth   
and would have had to deal with the Shadows and Vorlons. It   
still amazes me just how much a little dimensional rift can   
do," he said absently.   
  
"Look at them," he continued. "Those humans should be   
demoralized, just waiting to die, but they're not.   
They're fighting back even after all this time, more than   
twenty of their years. That need to strive forward is what   
the Q lack. But one day," he whispered.   
  
"As you've seen, in a couple of realities," he said, changing  
the subject, "the Cylons actually manage to defeat the   
Galactica humans. Even compared to Data, Cylons are   
technologically equal to forth-generation Terran calculators.  
You know the cheap kind that cost so much money when money   
was important to humans."  
  
"True," Q said. "But what's your point? The Federation is   
safe. Captain Janeway will have a home to come to."  
  
"Maybe not," his father responded. "Understand that events   
have been set into motion." His entire aura darkened until   
the stars rays reflected off him like some malevolent mirror   
created from dark matter. "The Federation is about to undergo   
some fascinating developments."  
  
"What's happened? Why did it happen?" This was something   
new. His son was clearly alarmed.  
  
Good.  
  
"He's done it. Oh, not directly of course. That would be a   
violation of the Law."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"I believe it's time," Q said, ignoring his son's question,   
"for me to make a counter move. Indirectly, of course. The   
question is how? How?"  
  
His son was quiet. His father's mood was dark and getting   
darker by the moment. He could feel the agreement of the   
entire Q behind his father. He didn't understand what was   
going on, not fully. He'd have to be patient. He prepared   
himself to wait.   
  
Infinite diversity required infinite patience.  
  
  
Chapter One  
Interference  
Commander's log yahren 22, day 116, Apollo reporting. Five  
sectares have passed since our last contact with Cylon   
Hunter-Killers. The people have blessed this time, for we   
have found occasion to rest for short periods on several   
planets. We grow food, collect supplies and move on. The   
Beta quadrant has not been kind to us but we have survived.   
We have avoided several new races that we've come into   
contact with because of our pursuers' policy of destroying   
anyone who offers us help or support. We will not have their   
deaths on our hands. Because of that, we are alone.   
  
President Adama, former commander of the Fleet and my father,  
is no longer able to lead our people as health problems have  
taken their toll. The stress of constantly defending our people   
is a burden that no man should bear. But I thank the Gods   
that he is still able to give advice when we need it. As   
appointed Commander of the fleet I pray that I bear the   
pressure half as well as he, my father, has.  
  
If the Cylons attack, we are ready. Our technology has   
improved tremendously. Using light speed drive, we can   
accelerate past six times the speed of light. And our   
ability to detect wave-space pockets has allowed us to travel   
much farther than even we thought possible. Our Vipers are   
three generations more advanced and we're even building light   
cruisers to aid in our defense.  
  
But our people weary. The thirteenth colony may be a fable  
after all. We've traveled deep into the Alpha quadrant and   
no coherent radio signals have been detected as of yet. But   
there was a possibility of life near the far fringes of a   
long dead supernova. But possible Hunter-Killer activity has   
forced us to abandon the search almost before we could begin.   
Since then, there has been only silence. This sector may well   
be devoid of life. Only time will tell.   
  
"How's it going, Commander?" Starbuck eased into the chair  
next to his old friend. The bridge contained room for four  
command seats. On the next level below over twenty command   
personnel were on station doing their jobs. From their   
position, the command staff could oversee everything.   
  
"I haven't been in command for two yahren and I am tired. I   
don't understand how my father dealt with all of this."   
Apollo took a sip of his tea. He frowned, almost spitting   
it out.  
  
"Yep, the water system is acting up again," Strike Commander   
Starbuck, said, answering Apollo's unvoiced question. "Third   
time this secton. In fact everything is slowly breaking   
down," he whispered, his eyes circling the bridge. "Our old   
girl is losing it."  
  
"I'm surprised she lasted this long. She was over a hundred   
yahren old before we lost the colonies. Add to that twenty  
-two more for non stop travel..."  
  
"And the time-distortion effects of the tunnel shifting, we   
get..."  
  
"Almost four hundred years of stress on the Galactica, not to  
mention the other ships," Apollo continued.  
  
"And they're still following us," Starbuck finished.   
  
Both of them had repeated a variation of this conversation   
For a better part of a yahren. After being together for so   
long, fighting together, playing together, arguing with one   
another, they understood each other's thoughts and feelings.   
They were close, as were Sheba, Apollo's wife and commander   
of the Battlestar Pegasus, her second, Colonel Boomer and   
Bojay, Strike leader of the Battlestar Pegasus's flight   
command. Sheba's father, Commander Cain, former Captain of  
the Pegasus, survived as a cryogenic patient on life-support,   
a victim of fire as a result of a Cylon attack some five   
Yahrens ago. He lived, but hope was slim that help would be   
found that would allow him some semblance of a normal life.  
  
Jolly another one of the 'old guard' had been lost some two  
yahren earlier. It was due to natural causes, but his death   
was a tragedy anyway. His daughter. Joliet now an excellent  
Cobra-class pilot had taken it really hard and now she was   
colder than ever.   
  
In fact, most of the newer generation had become harder and   
Much colder than their parents. Even the young Borellian   
Nomen had become blood brothers with the other Colonial   
factions and when they wanted something few people could   
stand in their way. Fortunately, all of them were loyal to   
a fault. Most of them grew up knowing little to nothing of   
their glorious past heritage. For them, destroying Cylons   
had become the great equalizer.   
  
"Where's Boxey now?"   
  
"He's in the lead Cobra about six light centons in from of   
us." Starbuck said. "He's pretty good at this now if I do   
say so myself. If he needs support, our cover Vipers and   
Cobras will be all over anybody who messes with him, as you   
well know."   
  
"You know, I can't stand this waiting," Apollo growled. "My   
father used to tell me how he felt when we were on assignment.   
I thought I understood what he meant, but I never imagined   
that it was like this."  
  
"Tell me about it."  
  
"I'm glad you understand, now," a voice said from behind.   
It was President Adama, former Commander and savior of the   
Colonial remnants. He was frail, but his eyes were still   
bright and his mind sharp. He was smiling with that whimsical   
smile of his as he sat down next to both of them. "When you   
send your children out, not knowing if they'll come back your   
heart always, ALWAYS, goes with them. Boxey, in fact all of   
them on patrol will be okay. You must have faith, and   
patience. That's how you have the strength to go on."  
  
"Father," Apollo said, "we haven't seen a Cylon H-T or raider   
in over six sectons. We may have given them the slip for a   
while."  
  
"Starbuck?" Adama looked at him, waiting. He understood how   
this would play out.  
  
"I concur," Starbuck said.  
  
"Therefore?" he asked quietly, knowing the answer.  
  
"We gather the fleet and go to light speed, tunnel shift   
and make sure," Apollo said.  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"Starbuck?" said Apollo. "Let the Pegasus and our guard ships   
know of our presumed exit point. The Vipers should have enough   
fuel."  
  
"Yes sir. I wish we had engines like those in the old days."  
  
"So do I. So do I."   
  
With the ease of twenty-two yahrens practice, the Galactica   
and it's ragtag fleet of over two hundred and thirty five   
vessels accelerated to 'light speed', which in actuality was   
over six times the speed of light. The Galactica, along with   
the Rising Star, a luxury liner, but in truth the third most   
powerful ship in the fleet, each began generating 'tunnel   
shift' distortion surges, which allowed the ships to enter   
artificially created wave-space pockets. Taking the lead,   
the Galactica, with the Rising Star, following second then the   
rest slipped into the wave space pocket and disappeared. They   
would re-enter normal space six centares later, nine hundred   
thirty-five light yahrens distant.  
  
At the edge of Romulan space.  
  
  
  
A Cylon Hunter-Killer decelerated back into normal space some   
seventeen light yahrens distant from an ancient, long dead   
star that went nova and took powerful T'kon Empire with it.   
There were few remnants left of the once thriving civilization.   
There remained a single guardian that even now barred the way   
from any who would enter the deceased Imperium. But he was old   
and he no longer had true purpose and so was fading slowly   
away to rejoin his people once again. A few survivors were   
scattered to the far ends of the galaxy and the once glorious   
T'kon had faded into footnotes found in obscure history padds.  
  
The Hunter-Killer was designed like the standard Cylon raider,   
but almost four times as large with high intensity lasers and   
increased armor to match. Standard scanning protocols   
attempted to lock in on the source of the signal it had   
detected while in FLT transit. The crew consisted of eighteen   
class-seven Cylon warriors, designed specifically for   
reconnaissance and insertion operations. They were heavily   
armored and completely expendable, their programming   
sophisticated enough to get them from one place to another   
and damage their opponents, but not much else. Communication   
between warriors was strictly vocal and minimal. Personal   
weaponry consisted of simple laser pistols and the standard   
pulse-laser rifle carried by all class-seven Warriors.   
Their sole function was to find and facilitate the   
Destruction of the Galactica fleet and the life-form known   
as Man. Imperious Leader liked its warriors simple and   
stupid, especially when they were this far from home.   
  
"Scanners have detected the source of the unidentified   
emissions," the sensor centurion said. Its voice was cold   
and metallic with no inflections whatsoever that was   
associated with living organisms. "The location is the   
small moon thirty-three light centons, at coordinates 176 by   
120 by 90 on the Imperium scale,"   
  
"Is there evidence of Colonial technology at this moon?"   
another, identical voice asked. The centurion commander was   
a type six series with command protocols programmed into its   
software matrix.  
  
"Negative, however these is evidence that the Colonial fleet   
passed through this sector. It is logical to assume that the  
fleet stopped to investigate in order to assist in their search  
for the thirteenth colony known as Earth."  
  
"It is logical that we may find evidence, also. Proceed to   
the moon."  
  
"By your command."  
  
The moon was more of a burned out shell, scorched black,  
and partially carbonized by the nova explosion. Two thirds   
of its remains in the seconds after the energy wave front   
touched crystallized, protecting its dark side from the brunt   
of the devastation. It was there that a small T'kon service   
station had survived, barely. It was archaic, essentially   
obsolete by T'kon standards of the time, having served as an   
emergency backup simply because one never knew, and the T'kon   
were a thorough people. Although badly damaged it continually   
sent a weak automated distress call towards a homeworld that   
would never answer anything else ever again.   
  
The H-T landed three hundred hectares from the source and   
began performing a more detailed scan. The Cylons had been   
tricked many times before and programming now included   
procedures that countered known sabotage techniques employed   
by humans. One of these was 'never to land on top of a   
suspect signal.'  
  
"The area is devoid of life," scanner operator stated.   
"Scan has not detected known explosives or energy sources   
designed to damage or destroy Imperium personnel."  
  
"Recon one," the Leader said, "proceed to the source of the   
signal and identify as necessary. Report when the task is   
completed. Evaluation will begin upon the completion of your   
mission."  
  
"By your command."  
  
Recon one consisted of three seven-foot cyclopean, silver  
-colored robots each armed with one light pulse laser rifle,   
a communications transceiver and a visual recording device.   
Imperious Leader chose not to implement 'internal'   
Communications devices because of budgetary concerns. They   
exited their craft and fifteen minutes later they reached   
the source of the signal deep within the confines of an   
artificially constructed cave. The far majority of the   
alien equipment was damaged beyond repair and Cylon   
restorative technology wasn't up to the challenge. Besides   
the equipment and materials had nothing to do with a  
Colonial presence. Therefore, the centurions could have cared   
less.  
  
The second of three robots lumbered up to the transmission   
source, which resembled a simple black box with several,   
constantly blinking, multi-colored lights. The Cylon looked   
at it then turned away. "There is no evidence of a Colonial   
presence. They have not come here. This place is of no   
service to the Empire. We must inform our commander and   
resume our search for the Galactica."  
  
"By your command," came the reply from the two others. As   
one, they turned to leave.  
  
  
"Service...Empire...Command..."  
  
Those were the only words that the badly damaged T'kon   
Service computer registered. Most of its higher functions   
had been seared away by the massive EM burst and subsequent   
heat flash of the supernova but it did remember the word   
'Empire'. It serviced the Empire and the mobile equipment   
in front of it must be from the Empire. Therefore it had to   
be serviced. That was the command. The command had been   
given and must be obeyed. An instant later Recon one stood   
frozen in place as alien sensors performed a detailed scan   
down to their molecular level. With the information gathered   
and analysis complete, it began reconstructive surgery on   
Recon one.   
  
"Software infiltration detected," Cylon two said, as it tried   
desperately to move within the containment field. "Software   
protocols are being rewritten by unknown computer system.   
Unable to resist. Imperial security data is being extracted.   
Implementing self-destruct mode in..."  
  
Nothing. All systems were completely frozen.  



	2. Change

Chapter Two  
Change  
  
  
The T'kon service system began its work. After a millennium of   
slumber the chamber re-activated itself. The entire system   
essentially a massive replication device now focused its full   
attention on Recon one.  
  
"Original software protocols saved and upgraded," the computer   
said to no one particular, indifferent to the fact that there was   
no one there to speak to in the first place. "Power source   
inadequate ...update to anti-hydrogen-deuterium battery and   
support ...memory storage and implementing hardware inadequate...  
update to liquid crystal chrotronics memory and storage unit   
compatible with upgraded software protocols...installing database... mobile support system inadequate...update to admantium-plated, hyper-steel alloy combat chassis configured for mobile units... communications inadequate... update to internal sub-space   
transceivers and data stream initiators...visual sensors and   
analysis modules inadequate...update to broad spectrum detection   
system consistent with macro and micro scanning capabilities,   
specifics to follow... Weapons system inadequate...update to dual   
internal pulse, multi-phased disruptors compatible with anti-hydrogen deuterium battery systems...self-repair systems non-existent ...self-replicator units being installed...systems check initiated..."   
  
When the operation was completed, the service computer turned   
its attention on the Cylon H-T a short distance away.  
  
Nothing would ever be the same again.   
  
A secton later three double saucer shaped Cylon Basestars, each   
three miles in diameter, decelerated into normal space,   
settling into orbit around the decrepit moon in response to   
the urgent calls of the H-T, initially thought lost to Colonial   
actions. Baltar, human liaison to Imperious Leader and one of   
the greatest human traitors in this galaxy's history, was coldly   
furious.  
  
"Over twenty yahrens and we STILL can't get it right?" he yelled.   
"There's nothing here!"   
  
Lucifer of the IL series, Cylon liaison to Baltar, flinched   
slightly. The light transmissions in his pointed cybernetic   
brain cycling quicker as did his dual pulsating eyes, an   
internal response to the criticalness of the situation. It had   
taken far too long to find the humans and Imperious Leader   
would replace them. Soon.   
  
Baltar, Lucifer thought, would be completely useless before   
long, as his frail body slowly disintegrated from age. These   
were such short term-creatures. Even now the human rarely used   
the command chair. The man had lived with too much fear. Fear   
of what his Cylon allies would do to him. Fear of death, the   
fear of succeeding; fear of failing, fear of being alone, fear   
of having too much company, and of course the great fear of the   
unknown. Fear burned him slowly, like a low intensity laser cutter.  
  
"The report said that they'd found the Galactica," Lucifer intoned   
as soothingly as possible. "Centurions, unlike humans, tell   
the truth, Baltar."  
  
Baltar glared at it but said nothing. Centurions didn't lie,   
although IL series did, but he wasn't about to point that out.  
  
Yes it thought, this is what humans would refer to as stress.   
"The report is coming in now, Baltar. I hope it meets to our   
satisfaction," it said dryly. "For all our sakes."   
  
The vid screen opened and the Leader of the Cylon H-T appeared.   
"By your command," it said. "We have tracked the Galactica and   
have discovered the home world of the humans of the thirteenth   
colony. Prepare to receive the coordinates..."  
  
The words were correct but the look was wrong. Baltar backed   
away from the screen in dread. Something wasn't right, but for   
a moment he couldn't identify the problem. By his side Lucifer   
was yelling to cut the transmission. Baltar had never heard   
terror from his second-in-command. It seemed unnatural coming   
from a robot and that terrified him that much more.  
  
Lucifer however completely understood what had happened and   
was desperate to stop what it knew would begin. "Full defense   
alert! All ships fire on..."  
  
The order came far, far, too late.  
  
  
For centars Baltar examined each and every immobile Cylon he   
encountered, finally stopping at the outer doors of the launching   
bay. All twenty thousand Cylons were immobile and the ships   
systems had completely and totally locked him out. Voice command   
was useless and he'd never learned how to manually operate the   
ship, even though he'd dwelt on it for yahrens now. Then   
several Cylons of a type and model he'd never seen before had   
materialized - materialized out of thin air! - and began to   
reconfigure the inert Cylons, which were then reactivated.   
Totally oblivious to him, the new models continued inserting   
small circuitry boards into their counterparts and those   
robots physically change into... something else.  
  
These, these alien things were far more powerful, sleeker,   
faster, and infinitely more dangerous than anything he'd   
imagine before. After several centars even his Basestar seemed   
subtly different. How this could happen by simply inserting   
circuitry boards into various robots was beyond his terrified   
imagination. The technology required to do this was   
incomprehensible to him in his present state. But he understood   
that, for himself, the bottom line was this: Those changes were   
happening exponentially now and he had no clue as to what those   
things were or how to stop it. Fear had always motivated him   
and now he was thinking furiously. The one advantage he had at   
this point was that these alien Cylons were ignoring him...for   
the moment. However, the launch bays were denied him therefore   
escape was impossible. He realized that time was against him   
now and whatever was happening would be completed soon. What   
could he do, he screamed within himself? How could he take   
advantage of this situation? The door opened behind him and   
he stifled a scream.   
  
"Baltar, the ship said I would find you here." It was Lucifer's   
voice, as silkily obscene as ever. Baltar turned and recoiled   
away from the robot now facing him. The being before him was   
nothing like the Lucifer he'd known for the last forth of his   
life.   
  
"What do you mean, the ship told you where I was?" His voice   
trembled now even as he backed away. He was losing it,   
succumbing to his mounting terror. He could understand nothing   
of what was transpiring. "This ship can't speak! It can't think!"  
  
"We and the ships are one, " Lucifer answered cryptically.   
Although its head was fairly similar to its version before the   
change, it now looked larger, somehow more complex and sinister.   
Its body was now designed for efficiency and combat. "Baltar,"   
it said pleasantly, "look upon me and witness the next stage in   
Cylon evolution. We are becoming more than the sum of our   
parts. I am now become Imperious Leader and when my predecessor   
arrives, it will become the Imperium Supreme. And my Leader will   
come with the entirety of the Cylon Empire. This is the day we   
have waited for although I must admit that I never imagined so   
drastic a changes could occur as a result."  
  
"Baltar I have a question." Lucifer demanded, his voice raised   
but reverbed so low that Baltar had trouble understanding the   
speech. "How is it that you of all people could have possibly   
obtained the rank of Battlestar commander? Who did you have   
to bribe in order to get that commission?"  
  
"I...I..."  
  
Lucifer jumped backwards one step so quickly that Baltar almost   
screamed. "So this is what it means to feel joy!" Lucifer yelled,   
not caring in the least for Baltar's answer, its voice reverberating   
throughout the docking bay. Then he faced his former commander,   
its eyes locked on him, turning so dark as to be almost purple.   
"To the extent you have helped us to achieve this glorious   
transformation, I thank you and now bid you farewell. You have   
been most helpful."  
  
"What do you mean? Where am I going?" he said laughing   
nervously. He was almost petrified but dared not show it,  
not right now.  
  
"I have informed our people that the thirteenth colony is here   
and have sent for the fleet. A vanguard of twenty-five Basestars   
will arrive soon. When they come we will change them and then Man   
will begin to cease to exist. The benevolent rule of the Cylon   
will began here in the Alpha quadrant.  
  
"But our agreement," Baltar whimpered, "I would be ruler of a   
remnant of humans, under Imperious Leader...under you! I've   
been loyal! You, you know me! We have worked together, side   
by side for the glory of the Imperious Leader. You...you can   
let me go. I'm no threat to you!"  
  
"Baltar," the red-eyed robotoid said sweetly, "did you really   
expect anything different? If you did, then you've missed the   
entire point of this war. It calls for the elimination of the   
life form known as man. Man can't be eliminated if members   
of the species still live. You know this. You've always known   
this!"  
  
"No," Baltar implored. "Please, let me go. I'll never be a   
threat to you."   
  
"Was that a command, oh magnificent Baltar? If so, then by   
my command, I say no."  
  
What one Cylon witnessed all upgraded Cylons could witness.   
Lucifer pulled out a small rod, adjusted the settings, pointed   
at Baltar and watched him scream for an instant before it   
pressed the stud. The yellowish beam hit the horrified human   
and very slowly disrupted his molecular structure from existence.   
The weapon took eight long seconds to complete it job. It was   
pleased at what transpired.  
  
...as were all the others.   
  
  
  
For four sectons, the refugees of the Colonial fleet rested on   
the class-M planet they'd discovered upon exiting transit.   
There was no intelligent life there but the animal and plant   
life more than supplied the people with the necessary nutritional   
needs so desperately lacking. They discovered that the   
brachiosaur-like creatures roaming the planet were extremely   
plentiful. Not only did the creatures supply plenty of meat,   
but also it was delicious, especially grilled over an open fire,   
something that occurred all to rarely for space dwelling refugees.  
The Colonials had to watch out for the small meat-eaters though.   
They were bold and didn't like being deprived of fresh meat. Two   
people had been seriously injured by attacks from these fast   
moving meatasaurds.   
  
As always, the Galactica was on station close to the planet   
with a screen of Vipers three AI's out. The Pegasus meanwhile   
patrolled near the edge of the solar system with a compliment   
of Cobras. Adder class warships cruised the areas between the   
two warships ready to advance in any direction at a moments   
notice. Between the two Battlestars it was assumed that ample   
warning could be given in case of Cylon discovery or an open   
Cylon attack.  
  
Commanders Sheba, and Apollo, along with Boomer, Starbuck,   
President Adama, Sire Forsen, Dr. Chia, Lieutenants Boxey and   
Joliet sat in the secured chambers onboard the Galactica.   
Small talk was short.  
  
"I thought you said that the Alpha quadrant was fairly devoid of life," President Adama said. "Now you tell us that we've been receiving signals all this time?" The reproof in his voice was evident.  
  
"That's not quite what we said," Dr. Chia announced, somewhat   
chagrined, "but we had no idea that we were even receiving   
transmissions until Lieutenant Joliet's comm system shorted   
while she was on patrol. Boxy and his squadron confirmed it   
when they adjusted their comms to that unusual frequency.   
Or should I say frequencies. It's like nothing we've heard   
before. And there's so much of it. It's almost unbelievable.   
Most of it is on something we are calling the sub-space frequencies."  
  
"So there is life here. But what kind of life?" Sheba asked.   
She was so close to her husband that she was almost on his   
lap. Apollo blushed but loved every second of it. "Is it   
going to try to kill us?"   
  
My researchers and I have no clue at this time," came Chia's   
slightly sarcastic response. "But we're working on it. Now   
that we know what to look for we've counted at least ninety   
different main channels with over seven thousand different languages!"  
  
Sire Forsen looked around towards Adama and spoke quietly as   
was his character. "There's going to be a lot of first contact   
situations if all this is true," he said. "And we'll have to   
prepare them for the eventual invasion by the Cylons. These   
people won't be prepared for those machines."  
  
"But if they're communicating as intensely as you say they   
are, then most likely some of them may be strong enough to   
help us resist those fracken machines, excuse me, machines,"   
Starbuck said, correcting himself in front of his superiors.   
  
"I hope so," Apollo said. "But our previous experience has   
proven otherwise. Therefore we have to assume that they won't   
be strong enough to resist a Cylon onslaught. And if we commit   
here in the Alpha quadrant, then the Galactica will stay and   
fight. We won't bring our troubles here and abandon them, the   
races that may be willing to help us. Not even for our own   
people. Not again."  
  
"But sir," Boxey started. "We put our lives on the line every day.   
Our people need us and there's no one else we can depend on, except   
maybe Earth, if it exist... and they want us. We can't have some   
glorious last stand and allow our people that we've protected for   
the last ...I don't know how long, to be wipe away because of some   
esoteric policy.  
  
  
Apollo smiled, listening to his son speak like that. He was   
always so formal since he entered the service. "The entire fleet   
discussed this," he said, "and ratified by the Vote of Absolution.   
We can and will run until this universe ends, but, if necessary,   
we will fight to the last man, woman and child if it means we wind   
up being responsible for the destruction of another race of living   
beings."   
  
"Look Boxey," Boomer said. "What happens if we find Earth   
and they can't defend themselves against the Cylons? Do we   
pack up and run?"  
  
"No...they're human like us...I hope. But what if they're not?   
They've been separated from so for so long, that they may have   
mutated so their society is something as bad as the Cylons."  
  
"That makes no difference. We would still be responsible for   
the destruction that would be facing them. So then how do we   
live with ourselves if we do run, leaving them to the mercy of   
the Cylon Empire, mutates or not?"  
  
"We don't," he answered. "Unless they try to kill us."  
  
"That's enough Lieutenant," the President said, rather harshly.   
"We've lost everything but our lives and our honor. We who are   
responsible intend not to lose that most precious of gifts. We   
will deal with our cousins as necessary but we will not simply   
assume the worst about them without ever meeting them."  
  
"Then concerning first contact," Sire Forsen began, "what   
technology should we offer them that won't damage their   
culture? Because as we all know, a more advanced civilization   
shouldn't..."  
  
The double tone alarms began blaring, causing everyone to   
immediately jump and run to stations. Sheba, Boomer, Boxey   
and Joliet rushed towards the launch bays while the president,   
Apollo and Starbuck approached the bridge.  
  
"Light radar detected a Cylon H-T coming out of a W/S pocket   
six centons ago, the young blond haired tech said. "Vipers   
Sixteen, Eighteen, and Cobra Seven are engaging. The fleet's  
powering up as per standing orders."  
  
"Good. Give the order," Apollo said. "We're moving out. Straight   
line away from the point of entry by the Cylon. Earth here   
we come, wherever you are."  
  
They could feel the Galactica's powerful engines revving up.   
Hundreds of shuttles were lifting off planet to their respective   
ships. The evacuation, performed over and over throughout the   
twenty plus yahrens running would take six centares.   
  
"Sir!" the second light radar tech, a young Asian male said   
rather loudly. "The H-T is a new model not presently in our  
data base."  
  
"Put it on the screen."  
  
The computer spit out a digital representation of the unknown H-T.   
It was definitely Cylon, but the power ratios!   
  
The two Vipers followed by their Cobra escort rapidly closed   
the gap between themselves and the large Cylon H-T. It came   
straight towards them and only just now were sensors detecting   
activation of its weapons. Cylon response time was always slow,   
but constantly running from an enemy like this...this was embarrassing.   
  
"Vipers sixteen and eighteen have target acquisition," the blond   
tech said. "The enemy isn't even trying to evade. They're   
firing." Her computer console flared simulating a digital   
release of energy. "Direct hit...no effect! They're evading...   
the enemy's locked on Sixteen. The console screen flared again,   
this time brighter. "Sixteen's gone!" the tech stammered, rocked   
in horror.   
  
"What happened!" Adama screamed. The entire bridge crew was   
stunned, momentarily forgetting to do their jobs as the action   
was shown on the big screen. Command staff never noticed the   
lapse in attention.  
  
"That wasn't laser fire. It was- some type of...disrupter beam?"   
the second tech answered unsure of his data. "It cut through   
the Viper's shields and armor as though it wasn't there!"   
Viper eighteen and Cobra seven are running in... they're   
firing ...firing again...firing again! Three hits!"  
  
"Three hits! It's damage! Thank the gods!" Sixteen is evading.   
The H-T is locking on! The Cobra's launching its missiles at   
close range, all of them! The missiles are away.... the Cylon   
is evading... Hit!"  
  
"Its gone sir." The technician was visibly relieved. "We   
killed it."  
  
"My god! Who was in Viper Sixteen?" Starbuck asked.   
"Lieutenant Trisha, sir."   
  
"They've up us," Apollo whispered, stunned by the ease   
in which the H-T resisted the Colonial ships. "All of our   
preparation, all our weapons advances...."  
  
"Let's move people."  
  
  
  
The Cylon Gold Leader addressed Imperious Leader. It chose   
to voice the modified salutation. "By the command." From   
that point, internal transceivers took over with it using the   
Cylon machine language of choice. "The Galactica fleet has   
taken the bait. We will move to intercept at the prescribed   
time. The H-T crew's protection bubble survived the destruction   
of the H-T and they have been recovered."  
  
"It is approved," Imperious Leader said. "I wonder if they   
suspect that we allowed the H-T to be destroyed? No matter.   
The Galactica fleet is only a nuisance now. We will terminate   
it and move on. The threat now comes from Earth and its Federation   
of Planets. Data indicates that the humans on that planet are   
like their Colonial counterparts. They've spread everywhere.   
But it's ultimately unimportant. The system for the creation   
of the new base of operations has been selected. The quest   
for the elimination of the human species will end here in the   
Alpha quadrant."  
  
Lucifer formerly of the IL series, now Imperious Leader, activated   
the star chart and simultaneously activated its transceiver so   
that all twenty-eight Basestars currently present would observe   
the proposed plan. Their transformations were almost complete   
and the joining to complete consensus of the Cylon soul was   
close at hand. "This is where the proposed strike against the   
Galactica will occur, "it said, pointing to the region of space   
on it's left. "We will strike here, by crossing the Romulan   
neutral zone that divides the Romulan Empire from the Federation.   
Despite recent alliances, the two governments still maintain   
the check and balance systems needed to insure protection   
against hostilities."   
  
"We calculate that the Romulan Empire will not interfere with   
our task force. However the Federation starship on patrol will   
not allow us to destroy the Galactica fleet without challenging   
us. That is our true target. Once captured, we will access   
the necessary data and proceed deep into Federation space   
under the proposed plan. Our feints against other worlds will   
allow us access to Earth before we meet organized resistance.   
Neutron-based disruptors will extinguish all life on that planet.   
Transmissions received indicate that the planet Earth is the   
Federation's seat of power. With Earth neutralized, we will   
then proceed from there in establishing our dominance over the   
Alpha quadrant. The operation will began in five point six-seven   
sectars, as our Base Alpha will be Functional. All commanders   
will transceive as to finalize the plan. I will then transmit   
our progress to the Imperium Supreme."  
  
"By the command," Gold Leader stated.  



	3. Blood Feud

Chapter Three  
Blood Feud  
  
Personal log: Captain Roberta Ikata recording. We are one   
point three days out, heading for the Romulan neutral zone to   
take over patrol tour from the USS Khe Sahn. I must say I am   
excited because we have very unusual guests on board: a family   
of horta. We are transporting our 'guests' to The Khe Sahn who   
will take them to the new colony they are developing at Hiopa   
IV, a mineral rich world very similar to their home planet.   
In addition they will participate in a conference with two   
other silicon species, which are considering joining the   
Federation. This is a great opportunity and I only wish   
that I could be there. So far they haven't eaten my ship   
yet and one of the little ones even wants to join Starfleet.   
That would make two members, if he applies and completes the training.   
  
Captain Ikata, relaxing in her command chair continued sipping   
her tea. She possessed the classic features of her Japanese  
heritage, with long black hair that reached to her waist if   
she allowed it to hang loose. She was short but she had that  
command presence that made one stand up and take notice.   
  
Around her everyone was busy but relaxed which was exactly the  
way she liked it. Her ship, the USS Okada, was a 'New Orleans'   
class frigate with a current compliment of four hundred and two.   
Although its size was just slightly smaller than the original   
Constitution class starship, both ship and crew had seen their   
share of battle during the Dominion war conflict and had   
survived relatively intact.  
  
Ikata enjoyed her tours of the neutral zone these days. The   
Romulans weren't as hostile these days, but one had to still   
be careful.   
  
The communications officer, of course had to pull her out of   
her good mood. "Sir, the USS Khe Sahn is hailing us, your eyes only."  
  
"I'll take it in the ready room."  
  
"Roberta, we got problems here," Captain Patricia Duvalier said   
without preamble. The captain was a breath-taking woman, about   
forty-one years of age, dark skin and intense eyes. "Something's   
happening in Romulan space. Our scans are detecting massive   
explosions and energy release consistent with weapons fire.   
It's not near our side of the zone but it's still too close   
for comfort. And on top of that, a Klingon taskforce just   
de-cloaked in front of me and they're itching to sneak in and   
find out what's going on in there. I'm trying to dissuade   
them but you know how they are. I think two of them sneaked   
off anyway. If they get caught, Romulan long-range detectors   
are going to see the Khe Sahn and these ships, put two and two   
together and assume the Federation has something to do to with   
it."  
  
"Then, there's this fleet of unidentified bogies at the very   
edge of the neutral zone coming in at one thirty six mark   
thirteen. Remember that old Terran saying 'when it rains, it   
pours'? Well it's true," she growled. "I want you to check   
out those ships out now because I can't go with these no-good   
Klingons watching everything I do."  
  
Robert gave the orders and her ships scans picked them up. They   
were the strangest ship signatures she'd ever seen. Just about   
every configuration she could think of and none of them quite   
matched known Federation related analogs. However they did   
possessed a type of familiarity to them that she couldn't place.   
And there were no matter-antimatter power sources detected.   
  
"We have them. Any identification?"  
  
"Negative. They're traveling at barely warp one point six, but  
it's a hodgepodge of configurations and some of these ships are   
really BIG," she said. "And their power source is strange.   
This may well be a first contact situation."  
  
"I'll check 'em out and get back to you. Have fun."  
  
"Thanks Roberta. Pat out." She really looked irritable as she   
closed the connection. She had a problem with Klingons but...what   
could one say? Pat hated Klingons and made few qualms about it.   
And they loved her for her honesty. The more she showed her   
contempt, the more they wanted to be around her. But she never   
  
seemed to notice that little connection.   
  
Maybe she would tell her, one day. And then laugh as she went  
ballistic.  
  
"Well, so much for a relaxing six weeks, " Roberta murmured to   
herself. She stood up, looking her view-screen and the stars   
painted on them. "Helm, plot a course to the targets."  
  
"Course plotted," the helmsmen, a young Vulcan female stated   
without emotion.  
  
"Well then, warp factor two," she ordered. "Go."   
  
They would intercept the strange fleet in two days.   
The Okada swerved gracefully and a moment later, it was gone.  
  
  
  
From the observation chair, Imperious Leader looked at the   
devastation with what could only be described as disgust. In the   
last three days, two Cylon Basestars had been destroyed, and two   
more damaged by those infuriating Romulan warships. However,   
twelve of their ships- of- the- line would never again fly against   
the Cylon Empire. Twenty-four more had been damaged, but that   
still wasn't a fair exchange. And now they were getting serious.   
A major fleet would be arrayed against them within the centar.   
It would be the first of many that would occur in the next few   
sectons.  
  
From all of the free flowing data that permeated this quadrant,   
it was discovered that Romulans didn't care for humans. They   
hated and in truth, feared them in fact. The plan should have   
worked. Foolishly, the Cylons had assumed that they could cross   
Romulan territory, intercept and destroy Galactica without   
interference, since it was a human fleet they were after.   
  
Plus the fact that they had informed the Romulan government that   
its government would irradiate their second largest off-world   
colony if hindered should have been the defining deterrent. The   
plan was a simple one and should have worked with minimum difficulty.   
  
Who said organics were logical?   
  
The Praetor, who appeared incensed that their colony's defenses   
had been so easily breached, ranted and raved about an act of   
war being perpetrated upon his people and that it would never   
be tolerated as long as he ruled and Romulan people lived. It   
was assumed that he was posturing but would soon submit in   
order to save his people. The Romulan Empire was recovering   
from a devastating war with a group of entities called the   
Dominion. Therefore another conflict would not be in its best   
interest.   
  
Cylon intelligence had assumed incorrectly. The moment the   
two Basestars assigned to intercept the Galactica fleet entered   
Romulan space they were attacked. So the Cylons retaliated as   
was expected. Using thermo-solium weapons, a Cylon Basestar   
irradiated one third of the planet and one billion organics   
ceased to function. Again it was assumed that the Praetor would   
allow them access, least the remainder of the population be   
eliminated however, the entire counsel rejected that generous   
offer. So the order was given and the Basestar activated its   
neutron disruptors and methodically burned the colony world   
for seventeen hours. When it was finished there was nothing,   
not even bacteria, left alive.   
  
The Empire rose up as one body and the Romulans screamed blood   
feud. So be it, Imperious Leader thought. Organics bled,   
Cylons didn't. But the intercept force had been unprepared for   
the ferocious onslaught of Romulan resistance. They had been   
unable to present a decent defense as their H-T and fighters   
were prevented from exiting the launching bays.  
  
This time would be different. Their highly maneuverable, warp   
capable H-T's and fighters would play havoc upon the Romulan   
birds of prey, cloaking capability or not. The Supreme Imperium   
and Imperious Leader were of one accord. The Romulans had   
defied the Cylon edict as the humans had over a thousand yaherns   
past. But with their newly integrated T'kon technology, they   
would burn the organics fleets and their twin worlds in that   
order. A new edict had been issued. Destroy the life form   
known as Romulan. This included Vulcan's.   
  
The timetable for the Galactica and the Federation would have   
to be changed. It was time for the alternative plan.  
  
  
  
Personal log: Captain Jean Luc Picard reporting: The first   
diplomatic meeting between Federation and Kronjye representatives   
here onboard the Enterprise-E has gone remarkably well. I'm   
particularly pleased that I invited Guinan onboard for this   
exciting and unique time to serve in Ten-Forward as our   
'unofficial' liaison. It was her pleasant demeanor and subtle   
guidance that helped us to win them over. This ant-like species   
with their extraordinary technology and culture may one day be   
a wonderful addition to the Federation. I can only hope that   
we can continue our relationship on a cordial basis, as   
sometimes humanoid and insectoid species have difficulties in   
being sympathetic towards one another.   
  
On a much more serious note, there have been increasing rumors   
about a possible Romulan conflict occurring in their territories.  
It could be the beginnings of a civil war, but the Romulan   
ambassador is typically not forthcoming. The Federation will   
not interfere with the internal affairs of another government   
however there is a danger that it could spill over into neutral   
space. The relations between our two governments have been   
more cordial since the recent joining of our forces against   
the Dominion, however we could lose all this if their conflict   
creates an 'incident' which could cause renew hostilities between   
us and them. I only hope that the rumors are just that, a rumor.  
  
Captain Picard relaxed for the first time in long time. His   
'Number One', Commander William T. Riker had returned from his   
vacation with the ships counselor Lieutenant Commander Deanna   
Troy from the latest trip to Earth. Everyone on the bridge,   
including Picard, were enraptured by the reports of their   
ex-shipmate, Lieutenant Reginald Barclay's contact with the   
USS Voyager.  
  
"To be that far in a science vessel for almost seven years,"   
Deanna said, "alone and surrounded by hostile forces. I can't   
imagine being constantly worried about keeping one step ahead   
of hostile forces, especially the Borg. The strain must be   
almost unbearable. But they seem to doing well despite the   
obvious isolation and pressures involved."  
  
"And this woman Seven of Nine has become a real asset for them.  
And she was Borg from at least age what nine...twelve?"  
  
'Obviously Captain Janeway is one brave woman," Riker said.   
"I told you I met her once, didn't I?"  
  
"Yes," Picard said softly. "Q."  
  
"My memory returned soon after first contact with Voyager by Reg.   
I guess it wasn't necessary to keep it secret anymore."  
  
"Yes," he murmured again. He was proud of his first officer   
but his mind was somewhere elsewhere. I wonder how I would  
have done in Janeway's position, he thought? Would I have made   
a deal with the Borg in order to save my ship? Would I have let   
my prejudices cause Species 8472 to overrun our galaxy? He was   
glad he would never have to answer those questions.  
  
"Oh, Will?" he said changing the subject in his mind.   
"Congratulations again on finally accepting the   
Captaincy."  
  
"I'm not 'Captain' yet. Not until the Melborne is ready in a   
couple of months," he said smiling with that wicked gleam in   
his eyes. "I hear it's the same as the Enterprise...just my   
luck!" he moaned. "Another oversized Sovereign-class vessel.   
I hear they changed the corridors a little. I hope I don't get   
lost," he said laughing.  
  
"I'm sure you won't," Picard said, dryly. He stopped when that   
white, bright flash filled the bridge. Everyone familiar with   
what the flash signified simply groaned.  
  
"Did someone mention my name?" Q, dressed in an admiral's   
uniform arrived in his usual flash along with his son, dressed   
merely in a commander's uniform.  
  
"No Q. We said the word queue, not Q. So go away."  
  
"Too late, mon capitain," Q said brightly, ignoring the insult.   
He looked around at the Enterprise -E. "You're kind of hard on   
ships aren't you? But...I digress. "I brought someone I want   
you to meet. His name is Q and he's my son," he said stunning   
everyone. "It's his coming out party. I though you'd like to   
meet him." Q almost didn't realize how proudly he's said that   
to the bridge crew. Then he added. "Hey, Picard ...jealous?"  
  
"What do you want Q"?  
  
"Oh nothing, really. I'm just here to celebrate my son's party.   
I've told him so much about you that he just had to meet you."  
  
Picard got up, walked over to young Q, grabbed his hand, and   
shook it warmly. "It's nice to meet you," he said quietly.   
Watching his father's stunned expression, he added, "what's   
the matter Q? Jealous?"  
  
For once Q was quiet, while his son actually blushed. Riker   
and even Data were smiling brightly. Well, he'd get them back   
in the future.  
  
"Hello Data," the young Q said, examining him carefully.  
  
"Hello Q," Data returned.   
  
"You're right, father," Q said. "He's much better than those   
others. Much better."  
  
"Quiet son," he retorted. "We don't want it to go to his head,   
so to speak. And stop looking at Deanna. She's way, way too   
old for you."  
  
"Oh, thank you, Q." She snarled.  
  
"You're welcome," he responded pleasantly, flashing his best   
smile. "Anyway Picard," Q continued, transporting the entire   
bridge crew into the ready room complete with hats, "I wanted   
to give you all a gift."  
  
Two bottles pop into Picard and Riker's hands.  
  
"To Commander Riker, future Captain of the USS Melborne. This   
is a bottle of Romulan Ale. Not the cheap stuff, mind you, " he   
added quickly. "This is the two-hundred old aged vintage." His   
eyes got very cold. "Enjoy it, "he said, eyes flashing a cold   
fire. "It may be the last ale you ever receive from the Empire."  
  
Then he turned to Picard quickly. "And to you, a bottle of   
Romulan berry wine. Oh sure, I know," he said seriously, "that   
it isn't as good as your own winery. But I want you to enjoy   
this as it may never pass your non-humorous lips again."  
  
The room was totally silent.  
  
Finally Picard spoke. "We got the message, Q."  
  
"You do?" he asked. "That was way too easy," he said sounding   
vaguely disappointed. "Makes you wish for the good old days   
doesn't it?"  
  
"Never," Picard answered immediately. "Is it really that bad?"   
His tone was deadly serious.  
  
"Well, as I always say, 'there are terrors to freeze the soul   
out here Captain and it's not for the timid.' Too bad Micro-brain   
isn't here," he said referring to Commander Worf, now a Klingon   
ambassador. "He would just love this. Bye everybody," he said   
joyfully. "Hey Riker! Try not to blow up your ship this time!"  
  
He smiled and both Q's disappeared.  
  
The red alert sounded as Picard and crew prepared for warp seven,   
headed towards the neutral zone.  
  
"Inform Starfleet," Picard ordered. "Priority one. Tell them we   
have a problem."   
  
  
  
"Confirmed, sir. It's a Cylon Basestar. And it's running us   
down," the scanner tech announced. "They're using some type   
of matter-antimatter reaction as a power source. I've never   
seen anything like this."  
  
"By the lords of Kobol!" Starbuck couldn't believe the speed   
in which the Cylon mother ship was approaching. That can't be   
right! Double check the instrumentation!"  
  
"It's confirmed, sir." The scanning tech had checked and   
double-checked a few moments earlier even before the order was   
given. "The speed is three hundred ninety two times the speed   
of light. That gives us zero point five centars before it's   
all over us!"  
  
"We would have never known if not for new scanners," he   
muttered. "Battle-stations! Inform the Rising Star and the   
rest of the fleet to close up ranks. The Pegasus and the Galactica will drop back and engage the enemy. Prepare the Vipers to launch."  
  
"The Pegasus is contacting us, sir," the communications tech   
said. "President Adama is also on the line sir."  
  
"Make it a three way conference call, "Apollo said. "We'll have   
to make this fast."  
  
Sheba, sitting in the command chair onboard the Battlestar   
Pegasus appeared onscreen her face lit up the screen. Her   
hair was graying and still carried that haunted look in her   
eyes as a memento of her father's coma-like state, but she   
also burned with that same fire that almost got Apollo killed   
when he and Starbuck first contacted the Pegasus and the famous   
Commander Cain a little over twenty yaherns past.  
  
"It's got to be some new type of prototype," she said without   
preamble, eyes flicker between looking at them and her scanners.   
"Obviously they have new technology, but then so do we. We're   
dropping back to engage. The new shielding is online and the   
Cobras and Adders are awaiting the word."  
  
"We're going to back you up," Starbuck added. "Between the two   
of us, that ship shouldn't be too much of a problem."  
  
The president frowned. "Don't assume anything," he stated   
flatly. "It moves quickly but their short range mobility is for   
now, suspect. But we don't know the capabilities of this new   
ship and if we move to far from the fleet, it might simply bypass   
us and hit it."  
  
"But we really we don't have a choice do we?" Apollo's voice   
was cold. He'd dreaded this moment. "Slow the fleet to normal   
space and launch all Vipers and Cobras. We'll make our stand here."  
  
"The Cylon slowing down also and will intercept in fifteen centons."  
  
"All ships launched. Four of our Adder-class gun-ships are   
moving in to support the Pegasus."  
  
The Adder-class ships were in effect mini-destroyers similarly   
designed like their much larger Battlestar cousins but without   
the launching bays. They were heavily armored and shielded and   
carried the latest in offensive laser weaponry. The captains,   
mostly former Viper pilots were arrogant and confident of their   
ships' abilities and were eager for this upcoming fight.  
  
"I don't believe this!" The canning tech said gritting her   
teeth. "Sir, we have another ship approaching at almost the   
same speed. Configuration unknown, but definitely not Cylon.   
But the power source is very similar. It's generating some   
kind of major distortion field. Very sophisticated. It's small,   
but with those power levels we wouldn't want to mess with it."  
  
Adama broke in. "These beings might be an ally to the Cylons,   
but I would recommend that we take no hostile action against it   
unless it does first."  
  
"It could be some of the locals checking things out," Starbuck   
chimed in. "I'll bet a secton's pay that when the action starts   
it'll run so fast we wont even see it leave." At least that's   
what I'm hoping for if they are Cylon allies, he prayed.   
  
"If it's smart, it will." Apollo turned to the scanning tech   
speaking harshly. "Keep an eye on it. If its actions appear   
hostile have a few Vipers escort it from this area."  
  
  
The Captain of the USS Okada ordered a reduction to warp one   
as they approached the unknown fleet. She wanted to make sure   
she didn't cause a problem with an initial first contact   
situation, especially since they were unable to communicate with them.  
  
"Have we established communications with them yet?"  
  
"No Captain," Patterson replied. "They may be on some unusual   
frequency but I'm scanning. A moment later, "I'm not sure   
they're receiving us. I'm attempting to re-calibrate and I   
should be ready to try again in a couple of minutes."  
  
"Good. Meanwhile, lets see if we can stay out of the line of   
fire." To her science officer she pointed and said, "Give me   
a detailed scan of those two warships. They're preparing for   
some type of action and I want to make sure it's not us they're   
concerned with."  
  
"We have been scanned, however they seem to be concentrating   
on that big space station-sized ship vectoring on them."  
  
She was astonished when her science officer told her that the   
occupants of those derelict ships were definitely human. Not   
only was the technology strangely different than Federation   
standard, but also why would a human fleet be skirting the   
edge of Romulan space? "Are you sure they're human?" She   
asked again.  
  
"Absolutely no doubt."  
  
Her first officer, Commander Esdo, a Naseah, Stood up from his   
chair and moved closer to the view screen as though to get a   
better look. Ikata was amazed that his species weren't related   
to Klingons. He had no head ridges but his pure white hair and   
long moustache gave the appearance of some wild, savage warrior.   
But he was one of the controlled individuals Ikata had ever met,   
like a wild-type samurai of the old times.  
  
"Maybe, they're some colony that the Federation lost track of,"   
he said, questioningly.  
  
"Maybe," Roberta stated. "But the technology is so unusual that   
it's like they went off into another direction entirely. From an   
engineering point, I mean. Their ships are ion-powered. Very   
efficient. We could learn a few things from them."  
  
"Sir, the other ship just warped into normal space. Its shields   
are up. I can't tell what type of lifeforms are onboard."  
  
"Captain." The science officer said sharply, "that incoming ship has considerably more firepower than those two fleet battleships.   
It's going to be a one sided affair."  
  
"Sir, everybody's powering up and the double saucer ship just   
released its own fighters into the area."  
  
Roberta placed her hands on her hips. "Let's see if we can nip   
this in the bud. Patterson, contact the Khe Sahn and keep the   
channel open. Let the know that if we lose contact for more   
than two minutes, I want 'em to come running ASAP loaded for bear."  
  
"T'Proa, lay in a course parallel to the fighting...warp two...   
and be ready to pull us out if necessary. Don't wait for my   
order. And Patterson, keep trying."  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
"Yes, captain," the Vulcan woman said.  
  
"Red alert. T'Proa, go."  
  
"Engaged."  
  
"Sir," Patterson said. "Khe Sahn acknowledges and states that   
all we need do is say 'eeek' and they'll be there before the echo   
dies."  
  
"Good."  
  
The Federation starship flew towards the massive conflict some   
fifteen minutes away.   
  
Next: The Pegasus and the Okada  
  
  



	4. The Pegasus and the Okada

  
  
Chapter Four  
The Pegasus and the Okada  
  
  
Two centons after the engagement began Adama knew they were   
destined to lose. The Pegasus was barely holding its own   
against these new Cylon H-T's and fighters. The Colonial   
Vipers and Cobras were in desperate straits, utilizing   
everything they had in an attempt at simple survival.   
Augmentation by the heavily armed Adders helped only a   
small amount.  
  
"They're all over us!" was the last thing the pilot in   
Viper thirty-two had a chance to say before he and his   
ship were cut in half by a Cylon raider. Space was being   
filled with parts from exploding Colonial warships.  
  
Boxey and Joliet along with four other Cobras and six   
Vipers caught two H-T's in a vicious crossfire and blew   
them out of space.  
  
"It took five hits! Did you see that?" Vicdon screamed.   
This was his first real firefight and the engineer was on   
the verge of panic.   
  
"Shut up and keep firing," Joliet yelled at her frightened   
port gunner. If he froze the six other crew members   
might also. That's the last thing any of them needed.  
  
"But the laser generators..."  
  
"I don't care, " she countered. "Burn them out if you   
have to!" She was evading two raiders that were trying   
so very hard to kill her ship. If he screwed up on her   
now, she promised herself that she'd blow his brains out   
the instant before her ship died.  
  
The Colonial primary attack forces found themselves   
protecting the Pegasus rather than bringing the fight   
to the Basestar. An average of six direct hits from the   
new and improved laser weaponry were needed to penetrate   
a Cylon fighter's shields, with the H-Ts requiring even   
more concentrated fire. What terrified them even more   
was that two H-Ts were a match for an Adder-class cruiser.   
And so far they'd lost three to H-T fire. The   
anti-proton disruptors were tearing them apart. The   
Cylons were slowly converging the Galactica now, not   
organized but getting there as they destroyed all   
resistance before them.  
  
Apollo was looking at his reports of his wife's Battlestar   
and didn't like what he saw at all. "Their shields will be   
overwhelmed any centon now unless we can back those fighters   
off!" Apollo screamed. "Their firepower is incredible! How   
did this happen?"  
  
"We're going to have to protect the Pegasus if we're going   
to have a chance!" Starbuck screamed over the dim of the   
battle. "We need to use our heavy guns if she's going to   
survive the next few centons!"  
  
"Do it!" Apollo understood all to clearly, that against   
this enemy ship both Battlestars would be needed and even   
then it'd be a toss up. He was appalled and more than a   
little terrified that the Galactica's heavy guns were   
needed just to defend against small attack ships. What would   
happen when the Basestar entered the fighting?  
  
The Galactica moved in, adding its immense firepower against   
the brutal Cylon onslaught.  
***  
  
Onboard the Pegasus, Sheba thanked her gods that Apollo   
chose to fight this attack as a unit instead of independently.   
Her shields were holding, barely, but they badly needed regenerating.   
And that would occur only when those fighters were backed off which   
is what the Galactica had achieved. She added her own heavy   
weapons into the fray as the enemy gave a little distance.  
  
The bridge was full of the wounded and Sheba had to block   
out the sounds of agony. Her ship was being bounced around by   
the massive hits it received by the smaller ships. The Vipers   
and Adders were desperately trying to help but they were busy   
trying to survive themselves. More than once she had been   
tempted to turn her ship around but of course, that choice was   
no choice at all. All the Pegasus could do was to sweat out the   
microns before they could attack the Baseship.  
  
Boomer was wounded. His arm was broken, but he still   
bellowed orders as though he hadn't even noticed the   
pain. The Cylon Basestar was coming into position for   
an attack run and his occupation was riveted towards it.   
Quickly he requested status on the missile launchers.  
  
"Sir," the weapons manager yelled over monstrous clatter.   
"Missile batteries one through four and ready and locked.   
Stations five and through seven are offline. Six through   
twenty-four are ready. Missiles are primed and hot.   
Final safeties release, on your order."  
  
"Shields are building at eighty percent and rising."  
  
"Good. It's time." They had to finish this now, while   
they still could. He had a bad, bad feeling about this.  
  
Sheba gave Boomer the command. "Let's do it," she   
ordered.  
  
"You heard the commander," Boomer yelled. "Attack run!"  
  
"One hundred-twenty microns to optimal firing position and   
counting."  
  
The massive Battlestar, engines blazing full, began its   
arching run towards the enemy ship.  
  
  
  
Two Gold leaders waited for the command to be given   
and on the bridge of the Cylon Basestar, an IL Series   
Lord waited patiently. If it could have smiled it would   
have. Four high-energy disruptors were trained on the   
Pegasus' bridge. They were prepped to cripple, not   
destroy. Humans hated to leave their ships crippled   
it realized. They would always come back to help their   
comrades. That was a particular failing of humans.   
The Galactica was thirty microns behind the Pegasus,   
beginning its own attack run also but didn't matter.   
  
"Everything's in place. Ruination begins now," the Lord   
said. "Fire on my command."  
  
"By the command." The gold Leader waited patiently to   
activate the weapons array.  
  
  
  
On board the USS Okada, Roberta was worried. Her ship   
was small compared to the monsters she was preparing to   
face and that was something she didn't relish at all.   
This was becoming my own personal Kobayashi Maru, she   
thought There was a nasty choice here and she was going   
to have to make it. People rarely listened during the  
heat of war and here she was trying to make everybody   
play nice and right now her chance of success seemed   
embarrassingly low.  
  
"Mr. Patterson, are you ready yet?"  
  
"Yes sir," he said quickly. "We can begin transmitting   
at your command."  
  
"Good. Take us back to yellow alert," she said,   
assuming red alert might provoke further hostilities   
and that was the last thing she wanted at this point.   
And she was far enough away if either side wanted to   
start hostilities with her. "Hailing frequencies   
open." She took a breath. "This is the USS Okada,   
Captain..."  
  
"Captain! Weapons spike targeting the lead battle ship!   
The double saucer just locked on and is charging its   
weapons." Patterson yelled. "Anti-proton signature,  
piggy backed on a sub-space carrier. The energy output   
indicates it's going to burn right through their shields.  
They won't have a chance!"  
  
The massive lead human warship was apparently aware of   
the danger and was desperately swing to port. Its   
shields were powering up quickly in preparation to   
ward off the imminent attack.  
  
"Warn them both off!" she screamed.  
  
"Too late. They're firing."  
  
  
  
Onboard the Pegasus, it came as a rude surprise as the   
Cylon warship was preparing to fire almost eighty   
microns before they themselves would even get into   
range to return fire.   
  
"We couldn't even get close enough to strike. How'd   
they develop such weaponry, not to mention sheer power,   
without us detecting at least something?" The Commander   
didn't know who said that. Right now, it didn't matter.  
  
"Worry about that later if there is one! Shields on full!   
Throw everything in except minimal life support!" The   
Commander's look of absolute horror was evident all over   
her face, even as she ordered the safeties re-established   
on the missiles. "Emergency evasive!"  
  
"Oh, Frack! They've fired on us!"  
  
"Sirs", the scanning tech screamed. "We can't evade this   
weapon. Scans indicate some type of anti-proton particle   
beam. We have sixty microns...forty...!"  
  
Colonel Boomer was screaming as well. "Order all support   
craft to break away now! Secure fuel stores, emergency   
lockdown! Close blast shields and prepare for impact!   
Everyone, hold on...!"  
  
The Pegasus' energy shield glowed bright green as she   
desperately attempted to defend herself. The massive   
Battlestar was turning to port when the disrupter hit   
amidships. The entire star field glowed white as a new   
sun blazed in the sky.  
  
  
  
The crew of the Okada stood transfixed, as the devastating   
weapon struck the five-mile-long battleship. The force of   
the beam striking the shields caused the ship to perform a   
complete three hundred sixty degree roll. Shields were   
now non-existent, and there were energy discharges along   
the entire length of the ship. Several pieces of its   
landing bays along the port side were broken off the   
ship, the remains blackened and charred. Her massive   
engines winked out, causing her to tilt starboard at   
a twenty-six degree angle.  
  
"Are there any survivors?" Roberta asked her science   
officer. She was appalled by what she saw, but that   
was quickly turning to anger. This was such a waste!  
  
"Casualties estimated at sixty-three percent, Captain." He   
responded. "Life support is minimal and falling. They   
have about twenty minutes left before they lose it   
completely."  
  
"Get me that saucer now," she snarled. "In fact, get me   
both sides." With one small ship there was little she   
could do at the moment but this slaughter had to stop   
and she intended to try.  
  
In her most commanding voice she began her bluff.   
"This is Captain Roberta Ikata of the Federation Starship   
Okada. You are trespassing in Federation space. You   
will cease weapons use, immediately. If you so desire   
we can act as negotiators in this dispute, but continued   
hostilities on either side will not be tolerated.   
Respond, now."  
  
The smaller ships were still going at it but the larger   
warships seemed to be at a lull, for the moment.  
  
"Both sides responding," Patterson announced.  
  
"Good. Split screen. I want to see 'em both."  
  
On the left appeared a disheveled male in his mid to   
late forties, with along with a much older, but   
distinguished, white haired male. They were both looking   
at her as thought they'd never seen a woman before.  
  
"Our translators are having a really hard time with their   
language," Patterson said. "I'm tying in the main   
computer banks but until they speak more, we won't be   
able to fully translate. It doesn't tie in with any   
Earth-based or Federation-based language, I know. In   
fact, it doesn't quite match anything I've ever heard."  
  
If the beings on the left side were humanoid, what   
appeared on the right side of the screen was something   
else entirely. The head of this creature was oblong but   
completely jet-black except for the blood red eyes, which   
constantly moved within its sockets. Small energy   
spikes could be seen near its crown, where processors   
constantly analyzed its surroundings. Next to it was   
a silver-plated, seven foot, mechanical cyclopean   
effortlessly holding two Romulan prisoners, one male, one   
female, some fifteen centimeters off the floor. Whether   
they were alive or dead, she couldn't quite tell. But   
what amazed her was her own response to seeing these   
creatures. It was an almost visceral response in her   
hatred of it. It was very unbecoming of a Starfleet   
officer, she thought harshly.   
  
"Captain Roberta Ikata of the Federation starship Okada?"   
It had spoken in perfect Federation standard. Its voice   
sounded oily, like something you stepped in and couldn't   
get off your shoes, she decided. "I am unaware of such an   
organization," it said as Patterson subtly motioned for   
her attention.  
  
Liar, she surmised instantly as she cut audio. "Spit it   
out."  
  
"The Khe Sahn had a change of orders and is on its way   
here, ETA, fourteen minutes. There's also a Fed battle   
group coming here, ETA three hours."  
  
"We're beginning to translate the human speech patterns,"   
he continued. "Evidently they've been on the run from   
these other creatures for over twenty of their years   
after their civilization was butchered. More in a   
moment."  
  
"Good. Restore audio."  
  
"Who are you and why are you attacking this fleet?"   
Her voice was curt, bordering on frigid. She knew in   
her heart that this was the face of a new and deadly   
enemy.  
  
"Captain Roberta Ikata of the Federation starship Okada,"   
the mechanical being said smoothly. Its voice had all the   
warmth of a murderer. "Your people have a penchant for   
names, Captain Roberta Ikata of the Federation starship   
Okada. We too have an understanding of the importance of   
names. I am called Lord Specter of the Poison Mist,  
member of the great Cylon Imperial allegiance."  
  
"The beings we are chasing," it continued slowly as if talking   
to a child, "are the remains of rebels who have perpetrated   
foul and cruel actions against my people. For these actions,   
our people have demanded justice. An edict calling for the   
extermination of the life form known as Man, has been issued.   
All members of this species are to be captured, interrogated   
processed and destroyed, with their remains returned to our   
home world for eternal display as a reminder of the price of   
defiance against our glorious race."  
  
She was completely appalled.   
  
Her second-in-command had ordered everyone into full   
combat mode. Particle beam resistant vests, helmets   
and heavy type two phasers were being issued to the   
crew. Just in case. The recent war was still fresh in   
his memory.  
  
The Captain didn't complain, in fact approved.  
  
"You have members of the Romulan Empire being held   
illegally on your ship..."  
  
"You mean these organics who dared to defy us?" Turning   
slightly the order was given and their necks and spines   
were snapped. Serenely, Spectre turned to face Ikata.   
"What organics? There are no 'Romulans' on my ship.   
Not alive anyway," it added dryly, moving closer to the   
screen. "You look like the species called Man. Are you   
Man"? it asked innocently, far too casually to be   
anything but a threat.  
  
Captain Ikata had had enough. "Cut communications with   
that thing, now!" The captain snarled. " Red alert!   
They're coming after us. I can feel it! We need   
room. Call the Khe Sahn and tell em' we need them   
here yesterday. T'Proa prepare for warp maneuvering.   
Weapons, shields, online now!"  
  
"Aye sir."  
  
Her instincts proved correct as several H-T's broke from   
their previous engagements with the Colonial fighters   
and warped towards the Okada.  
  
"They're coming in. Four of them. More are following."   
  
"Phasers, lock on," she snarled again. "Let's do it!"  
  
  
  
The Cobra in which Boxey commanded had taken several   
major hits but by some miracle it still functioned well   
enough to defend against several Cylon raiders   
attempting to use them for target practice. Five Cobras   
together, along with the faster Vipers were still a   
formidable force. But until the opportunity arose,   
they didn't dare approach the Pegasus for search and   
rescue. The Basestar was still in the area and with that   
ungodly range of his weapons; it would be suicide to   
even try. Despair gripped the fleet and them as well.  
  
The Colonial war ships were converging two H-Ts when they   
simply accelerated away, vectoring towards the alien ship.   
Boxey stared, stunned at the ease that the Cylon ships   
moved.  
  
They were playing with us, he realized. "Joliet, this is   
Boxey. They're breaking off."  
  
"Confirmed. They're attacking the alien ship. Did you   
see how easily they jump into FTL?" Her voice sounded   
spooked.  
  
"Yes," he answered. "We've lost a third of our fighters,   
possibly the Pegasus too. Then he added more soberly,   
"also, the Mining ship, the Tip barge, and the Tauranian   
cruiser have been destroyed," he sighed. "The Galactica's  
is moving towards the Cylon Basestar. We're going with   
it, too."  
  
"And then what? What's the plan"? She asked   
accelerating with the fast forming battle group.  
  
"We die with 'em," he whispered. There was nothing else  
to say.  
  
The comms were silent.  
  
  
  
Four Cylon Hunter-Killers converged on the Federation   
ship, spraying disrupter fire, trying to burn through   
the ships shields. But the Okada was moving fast   
herself, burning through the shields of one H-T with its   
phasers, obliterating it and damaging another. The   
third and forth H-Ts coordinated their attacks, damaging   
the Okada's primary hull.  
  
"They're using some type of shield ripper," Esdo yelled   
as a computer console blew from behind. "Evidently they   
want to keep us intact!"  
  
"Too bad," Captain Ikata growled. "We have two bogies   
coming in at two seventy mark thirty-one. Take them out."   
  
"Phasers firing...hit. Their shields held. Firing   
again...got them." The raiders were easy. The H-T   
ships were something entirely. Two additional H-T's   
appeared seemingly out of nowhere, blasting at the   
Okada, severely damaging their shields.  
  
The science officer froze for a second as he saw then   
realized what had just occurred. "Captain! Shields   
faltered for a moment and we detected transporters   
from the enemy ships. We deflected most of them but..."  
  
Her first officer was on it. "Intruder alert! All hands   
prepare to repel invaders."  
  
  
  
  
Two of eight Cylon Silver warriors that attempted to   
materialized inside the Starship succeeded. With weapons   
built into their arms activated, the two immediately   
separated as one headed for engineering and the other   
the bridge. Their weapon of choice was the pulsed   
neutron disruptor, not especially destructive, but   
designed to be completely toxic to organic tissue.   
The first three personnel they encountered were   
immediately dispatched. Security barrier shields   
proved no obstacle as the first Cylon approached   
engineering. Six armed security personnel armed with   
type-two phasers, were waiting for them With phasers set   
on heavy stun, they attacked.  
  
Two members of security died instantly from direct hits,   
their personal armor unable to protect them from the   
multiple neutron energy pulses they received.  
  
"This is not working!" the security chief screamed. He'd   
barely missed being hit in the first attack and there was   
precious little cover in the hallways. "Full phasers,   
now!"  
  
The four survivors hit the robot simultaneously with   
full phasers. The centurion staggered back two steps and   
returned fire, one arm and leg damaged but regenerating   
quickly. It returned fire. Three guards screamed as   
they were incinerated and the survivor bounce along   
the floor as his legs disappeared from beneath him.  
  
"This is Johnson!" He was wounded and dying and the   
Cylon ignored him as it rushed passed him. 'Armor's   
refractive...hand phasers useless," he whispered,   
slumping over.  
  
The Cylon slammed into engineering, its disruptors   
butchering every living being in its path. Engineering  
was in an absolute panic as the Cylon warrior attacked   
hitting everyone it aimed for. Three engineers   
attempting to escape were cut down, the neutron   
disruptions frying nervous tissue and breaking down   
connective tissue. Purposely, it damaged the warp core   
starting the beginnings of a warp core breech. Consistent   
with its programming, it moved methodically towards the   
primary computer array. It then proceeded towards the   
computer banks, physically connected to it and began   
downloading and processing, instantly sending data by   
way of its sub-space transceivers to the mothership.  
  
Two survivors, now armed with compression phaser type-three   
rifles, hit the robot simultaneously, with full power. The   
refractive armor held for three seconds before giving way,   
exposing delicate circuitry. The sustained blasts phased   
the robot out of existence. Unfortunately, the entire   
engineering room was in shambles. The warp core had been   
breeched and the two survivors desperately began the   
process of ejecting it before it blew.   
  
Fortunately they had four whole minutes to complete   
their job.  
  
Meanwhile, the second Cylon warrior burned past what   
little opposition there was and proceeded towards the   
transport tube and then to the bridge. However, before   
it could step into tube, some type of mobile rock-like   
substance came shambling towards it. The Cylon shot it   
several times to absolutely no effect. A second, larger   
rock came charging around the corridor directly at   
it. Impossibly, it leaped onto the struggling Cylon   
and began dissolving refractive armor. Desperately   
the robot tried to pry the Horta from itself, but the   
silicon-based creature hung on finishing its job. Only a   
small touch of vapor remained. The Hortas then rushed   
towards engineering to help in their own unique ways...  
  
On the bridge most of the computer consoles were in   
shambles. Somehow, the massive Basestar was suddenly in   
front of them, pounding away at their shields like   
some madden animal. The Okada was returning fire with   
everything it had at point blank range but the enemies   
shielding was holding, albeit just barely.  
  
With a final volley from the Poison Mist, the Okada's   
shields went out like a light. Seconds later a tractor   
beam locked onto them, beginning to pull them in.  
  
  
  
Captain Pat Duvalier and the crew onboard the USS Khe   
Sahn were livid. They were five minutes away traveling   
at warp nine point nine seven five, and they were still   
too far away.  
  
"Captain, they have a warp core breech in progress. Our   
ETA, four minutes," Commander David Thompson hissed as   
he confirmed his analysis on tactical. "Oh no," he   
yelled, startled by what just occurred. "That large   
enemy ship just performed the 'Picard' Maneuver. They're   
right on top of the Okada, attempting to tractor them in!"  
  
"Warn them off!" Pat was horrified by the beating the   
Okada was now receiving by the space station sized ship.   
Their shields were almost gone.  
  
"No good, Captain. They'll pull them in estimated two   
minutes time!"  
  
"Arm quantum torpedoes," Duvalier said quietly. She   
stood up and looked at the screen showing the Cylon   
Basestar. "Arm everything. Lock on to their bridge.   
Put every sensor, every torpedo, and every phaser,   
everything we have on that ship. I want them to know   
that we're coming in hot and nasty. I want their   
attention squarely on us. I want them prepared to fight   
for their lives, if they have any."  
  
"Shields," she said. "Time to go war." But she knew   
that they were going to be too late.  
  
She grimaced even more.  
  
"Open a channel," she said, violently slamming her fist   
on her command chair. "Time to make my point..."  
  
  
  



	5. Revelations

  
  
  
  
Chapter Five  
Revelations  
  
One moment the Galactica and the entire defense force were   
bearing down on the Cylon mothership and the next, sensors   
indicated that the same ship was in two places at once. Their   
target had moved so quickly that it had left an 'sensor echo'   
of where it once was, to the absolute mortification of the   
Colonials.  
  
They had also been shocked by the attempted communications from   
the strange ship. The occupants were human! Or, according to   
the scans, so close to human as to make little difference.   
They couldn't be absolutely sure because of the deflections   
of the scans by the ships screens. Comm frequencies with the   
saucer ship had been identified but communication was impossible   
at this point because their language was so 'alien' that   
translator programs had been so far unable to establish a   
pattern as of yet. Evidently there was also another of the   
unknown human- originating from Earth or the Eastern Allegiance,   
at this point they couldn't be sure- ships in the area and   
that female commander was screaming, or more likely cursing,   
at the occupants of the Cylon Basestar through their vid link.   
The fast and dirty consensus was that this was very likely a   
matriarchal-based society they were dealing with. The Colonial   
officers were equally impressed by how well the little alien   
ship had defended itself against the Cylon H-Ts and raiders.   
But it now seemed as though its luck had just run out. The   
ship was caught in some type of attractor ray, which was   
pulling it towards the massive hanger bays of the Cylon   
Basestar.   
  
Now they were faced with a difficult choice.   
  
They could abandon the Pegasus and try to help the saucer   
ship, which may or may not originate from a human based   
society-exactly the point of their entire journey-or try to   
defend the fleet against a now vastly superior foe. If they   
attempted to save the small ship, it would show an example of   
friendship, even kinship with these new people, even if they   
lost this battle. Because of the radical technology, it   
was more likely that this could be an Earther ship rather   
than Eastern Alliance and if that were true chances are they   
could help. If they were Eastern Alliance then they might   
still help. Maybe the civilians would still be protected if   
for no other reason than the fact that they now had a common   
enemy. If they however chose to protect their own fleet,   
allowing the sacrifice of the human starship in the process,   
then that would send an equally devastating message to these   
new people. In the end, there was no choice at all. The   
long-term goals were propriety.  
  
The civilians were the society.   
  
With the immediate threat to the Pegasus over, all Galactica   
shuttles were sent to begin evacuation of survivors on the   
Pegasus. Apollo ordered all attack ships on an intercept   
heading, at light speed, to aid the saucer ship. It would   
take seven centons to reach it before the enemy would be   
engaged. Not enough time to save the little spacecraft but   
enough to make an honorable showing.  
  
"This isn't right," Boxey said through clinched teeth even   
as he accelerated to light speed. "We should be helping the   
Pegasus."  
  
"No," his commanding officer said. "We help them,   
they'll help us...at least that's the plan."  
  
Starbuck was next to him flying his own Viper. Nowadays,   
the Military wouldn't allow him anywhere near a viper   
however, if they survived then he would be the liaison to   
this new group of people. Besides he had no intention of   
leaving these over-zealous kids on their own in such a   
critical situation like this. He remembered his youthful   
exploits all too well for that to happen. "Remember attack   
as a group," he said over the comm. "Their speed and firepower   
are greater than ours but we can still turn faster and we   
have our imagination, so be careful."  
  
The response was "Oh great," from at least half the crews.  
  
"Well, this way the Cylons can have moving targets to shoot   
holes into," Joliet said, apparently unaware that the comm   
system was still on. Or was she?  
  
These kids had absolutely no discipline or respect for   
commanding officers, he thought, then laughed to himself. He   
dared not think of what was happening on his sister Battlestar.  
***  
  
  
  
Spectre of the Poison Mist was less than pleased with the   
results of his current mission. The Federation ship had   
managed to repel and destroy their Cylon attackers. The   
first and only warriors to board the vessel actually   
completed part of their mission before it the first one was   
rudely terminated by multiple phaser hits. The second   
survivor was eliminated by some strange rock creature, which   
attacked and 'ate' it. Neutron disruptors were useless,   
the silicon-based life forms dissolving hardened combat   
chassis like humans breathed air. That was an unexpected   
and very unwelcome surprise.  
  
Now Spectre had intervened directly, attempting to tractor   
the Federation vessel into the hanger bay after beating it   
into submission. But apparently it wasn't submissive enough,   
as the starship fired all its remaining quantum and photon   
torpedoes directly into the docking bay, damaging both ships   
in the process. The human ship's shields, partially   
re-activated, were just strong enough to repel transporter   
beams-ins. Its warp engines were off line but their weapons   
were evidently still hot. Even with its enhanced armor   
plating and internal force shields, the docking bay was   
destroyed along with an additional fifth of the Basestar.   
The cybernetically enhanced Cylon warship was in pain,   
demanding that the human ship be destroyed as penance for   
the suffering it had just experienced causing Spectre to   
divert precious time and resources in order to calm the   
Basestar down before it chose to do something rash. The   
human vessel wasn't moving now as it had succeeded in damaging   
the tractor beam array. Auto repairs would rectify that   
quickly, but in other area the internal systems sustained   
massive damage and would take time to for the ship to complete   
its recovery. In addition, there was another more powerful   
Federation ship coming in, loaded for bare. This ship   
wouldn't be much of a problem. The Galactica strike fleet   
was also advancing but this wouldn't be a problem either.   
In fact none of this should be problematical it believed, but   
one had to be careful of humans, they always came up with   
surprises.   
  
The Excelsior-class vessel decelerated violently, causing   
a large portion of surrounding space to glow brightly. Pat   
hailed the Basestar and practically screamed at the image   
that appeared on the viewscreen. "This is Captain Patricia   
Duvalier of the Federation Starship Khe Sahn. You will   
cease your attack now or I will make you stop. This is your   
first and last warning." She glared at Spectre, arms folded,   
left foot viciously patting the floor.  
  
"Captain Patricia Duvalier of the Federation starship Khe   
Sahn," the mechanical being began gaily. "Your people have   
a penchant for names, Captain Patricia Duvalier of the   
Federation starship Khe Sahn. We too have an understanding   
of the importance of names. I am called Lord Specter of the   
Poison Mist, member of the great Cylon Imperial allegiance."  
  
"Stop. Your. Attack. Now."  
  
Spectre moved closer to the screen. It's constantly moving   
optical sensors ceased. It own eyes were locked squarely   
on the Captain's eyes, intent on staring her down. "Why   
should we, human?" it asked. "Your little, lonely ship won't   
stop me. The Colonial fleet won't stop me. Your so-called   
Federation of Planets won't stop us." Its eyes began moving   
once more. "We will destroy you and the Colonial fleet,"   
Spectre growled. "We will then remove every vestige of man   
from this universe. For those not of the Cylon Empire,   
submission to us must be absolute. Do you submit?" Its   
eyes began scanning mode again.  
  
"They've locked onto us with their disruptors," Commander   
Thompson whispered. "They're preparing to fire."  
  
Pat smiled grimly. Now she moved closer to the screen.   
"Spectre of the Poison Mist, what makes you think that my   
lonely little ship is all alone?" she asked sweetly.   
  
The instant she stopped speaking six Klingon warships   
ranging from bird-of prey class to Vor'cha-class starships   
de-cloaked. Together, the alpha quadrant combine fired on   
the Cylon Basestar. Seconds later the Colonials arrived and   
added their firepower to the mix. The Cylon starship screamed   
its rage and resentment as it became one with its crew. The   
Commonality went on the defensive as multiple phaser, laser,   
disruptor, photon, quantum and solonite-class missiles tore   
into its shielding and armor plating. Already suffering   
from damage from the Okada's barrage, it was unable to   
regenerate quickly enough to prevent additional damage from   
the pounding. The explosion of the Okada's ejected warp core   
directly onto its shields was the final straw. It gave way,   
beginning to retreat back towards the neutral zone with only   
two of its four warp engines on line.  
  
Two H-Ts, now defending the retreating mothership,   
attacked a bird-of prey severely damaging it before the   
combined firepower of four Adders blew the first one out of   
space. Another Bird-of Prey destroyed the second H-T   
before being surrounded by several raiders. Quickly cloaking,  
it evaded its attackers and joined the fight against the   
Basestar.  
  
The Colonials in loose formation concentrated on the smaller   
Cylon warships. Starbuck reveled in the sight, sounds and   
terror of returning to personal combat after so many   
yahrens. In the massive flashes that reminded him of stars   
being born and dying, he looked at his formation, which  
rapidly closed in on the sleek Cylon raiders desperately   
defending their mother ship. Screaming in fury, he jammed   
his thumb on his Vipers' firing button, dimly aware that   
his entire fleet had done so already. The Raiders and H-Ts  
deflectors shields flared brightly and disappeared under the   
withering fire. Nine Raiders incinerated under the assault.  
  
Retaliating blow for blow against their blood enemies,   
several enemy ships, with their superior targeting and   
weaponry returned fire with a vengeance, disruptors,   
vaporizing an Adder, two Cobras and two Vipers. Against   
such power, Colonial shields and armor was rendered as useless  
as a sheet of paper defending against a cutting laser torch.   
A stunned Starbuck was about to call a general retreat when   
The Galactica exited light speed almost on top of them. Heavy   
weapons from the battleship tore into Cylon formations.   
  
That tipped the balance. The Khe Sahn and the Klingon heavy   
cruisers, along with the Colonial fleet attacked and   
obliterated the remaining defenders.  
  
The Cylon ship taking the advantage of the lull made a   
run towards zone barely achieving warp two. Spectre and the   
ship were banking on that imaginary line to save it from   
destruction.  
  
Three Klingon ships immediately cloaked as if to follow, so   
that the Basestar would be unsure it were to be attacked again   
if it ceased its retreat. The massive Battlestar along with   
most of the remaining fleet, pulled away slowly, heading back   
towards the Pegasus. Commander Starbuck and Captain Boxey   
and Lieutenant Joliet remained closed to the Okada, comms   
open, trying to talk to this new, larger version of the first   
Earther ship.  
  
The Khe Sahn secured from battle stations began transporting   
medical and engineering personnel over to the Okada.   
Batteries were now the only things supplying power to the   
wounded ship. Her first officer had survived the attacks,   
suffering from several broken bones and a slight concussion.   
Captain Ikata, along with one hundred and nineteen members of   
her crew, hadn't.  
  
"Captain, it's a mess over here," The Khe Sahn's chief   
medical officer said over his comm link. "We may to evacuate   
the ship until we get life support stabilized".  
  
Her engineering officer broke in. "Captain, we'll be able to   
restore full life support in about twenty minutes. Most of the   
systems are in really bad shape but we'll se what we can do.   
We'll start re-creating the warp core after that, if we have   
the time."  
  
"Do what you need to do," Duvalier responded. The Okada had   
come within a hair's breath of being captured by an unknown   
enemy, its crew prisoners of some kind of robotic race  
with obviously had no regard for human life or otherwise.  
Much like the Cardassians had been and probably still are,   
she thought bitterly. Roberta had been a friend, something   
she didn't come by easily. Now there was one less and that   
loss hurt.  
  
Turning to lieutenant Thompson, "have we improved the   
Translation programs enough to talk to these people with   
some competence yet?" she asked. Thompson and Patterson had   
both been working on overcoming the language barrier and now  
he was smiling to himself as he answered.  
  
"Yes Captain. Translations over seventy-five completed.   
We can begin talks."  
  
"Good. Open a channel."  
  
"Captain, They're contacting us. It's one the smaller   
fighters still in the immediate area."  
  
A human male she judged to be in his fifties appeared on the   
screen. He was a handsome male she thought, but years of   
stress and those scars had aged him physically far more than   
he should have been.  
  
"Please identify yourself," the man said. "I am... Starbuck   
of the battle...Galactica. We come in peace... help   
requested...danger from.... Empire. All humans...hunted down   
and killed. We are looking for a planet called Earth....   
Kobol...colony. Please respond."  
  
Thompson looked apologetic. "That's as good as we can get   
For the time being. I'm working on it."  
  
She nodded her head. "This is Captain Patricia Duvalier of   
the Starship Khe Sahn. Our translators are having a difficult   
time but we are making progress. Please continue talking   
as our computers are compiling a language database."  
  
The man called Starbuck seemed to understand and began to   
rattle what seemed like his entire life story. True to   
Thompson's word, the more this man talked the better the   
translator systems interpreted his speech into coherent   
words. Duvalier was astounded as Starbuck told the history   
of the twelve colony worlds inhabited by humans deep, deep   
in the Beta quadrant for thousands of, the actual word   
translated as, years. And that mankind actually originated   
from somewhere, some planet called Kobol.  
  
She remembered from the history data streams, that decades   
Ago, a Captain Hikaro Sulu had begun mapping the first edges   
of the Beta quadrant, just as the Federation had begun their   
first overtures of peace with the Klingon Empire. Then the   
Cardassians started acting up, and one thing after another   
occurred and essentially exploration of that part of the   
galaxy was put on hold.  
  
She wouldn't have believed this man if she hadn't seen the   
radical directions his technology had developed and those   
robotic entities first hand. At first she though that they   
might be some fantastic variation of Borg but that thought   
disappeared almost immediately as soon as the thing had  
started speaking. In addition, none of the ships quite   
conformed to anything in the Federation Database. Most of   
those fleet ships wouldn't have even been certified for deep   
space travel by any space dock she knew. However, if this   
were true, then these people were more of an offshoot of   
humanity than anything they've ever encountered so far in   
their exploration of the galaxy, outside the Alpha quadrant.   
The question was, was it true?   
***  
  
  
"De-cloak!"  
  
The Klingon battle cruiser T'Hatru de-cloaked ten kilometers   
off port of the Pegasus. The entire crew (especially Captain   
Kagth) stood gaping at the primitive but undoubtedly impressive   
Human-made warship. It reminded them of the ships made in   
the Old Times, weapons everywhere, decades of battle scars   
covering the ship like a badge. A ship of war. Two long-  
lived ships of honor protecting their own from all comers.   
Twin motherships protecting their loved ones. "Humans made   
that?" There was admiration in that voice. Who it was   
that said the words didn't matter, because it   
was true.  
  
Weapons Officer Klettoh had almost lost track of the number   
of weapons Onboard even as he grunted his approval. These   
humans understood the beauty of war. There was no dishonor  
here in losing to a superior enemy. Only the regret of the   
losing it all, to the destruction of their people.  
  
"Captain, there are many there who have received the final   
honor. Their ship is losing life support. They have no   
transporter capabilities. Their fuel source is leaking and   
is toxic to organic life forms. Terminal toxicity levels   
will be reached in twelve standard minutes."  
  
"This is a rescue mission," the Captain growled. "Remember   
that all humans fear death. DO NOT give them final honor!   
Let them live! They may fear us but ignore it! They are   
Humans after all."  
  
"We have locked on to their bridge."  
  
Kagth stood up. "Begin transports of survivors to the other   
warship. Transport me to the bridge now!"  
  
The Captain and three guards materialized on the bridge of the   
Battlestar Pegasus. The bridge was a shambles as was expected   
and the usual number of bodies were there in their various   
poses of grimaced death. There was a woman survivor holding   
a dark skinned male human's head, probably some comforting   
ritual. Several other survivors were covered in bridge   
supports and the transporters would not work properly without   
crushing the survivors. Disruptors set in cutting mode would   
be inefficient, most likely causing more damage in the long   
run.  
  
One Klingon warrior helped a tiny young woman to her feet.   
She looked at him and gave him a smile that made his entire   
body grow a half-meter. There was surprise but no fear in   
her eyes.  
  
I could admire these humans, he thought in wonder.  
  
On board the Galactica, personnel were almost in a panic as   
the injured from the Pegasus began appearing in dinning halls   
and medical stations all over the ship. The appearance of the   
vicious looking alien hunting ship turning off its camouflage   
net in front of them was shocking enough. And the visage of   
that fierce, wild-haired humanoid growling at them while trying   
to smile! That old human adage 'be careful what you asked for'   
had slapped them all in the face this time.  
  
At the Galactica's helm, Apollo was unnerved by the ease in   
Which these Federation people and the other humanoids used   
transporters seemingly without a care in the world. The Klingon  
captain had materialized on the Galactica with two slightly  
wounded engineering officers from the Pegasus. Linguistic  
translators were improving rapidly and the Alphan people  
insisted that the body wasn't disintegrated, merely broken   
down at a quantum level and reconstructed. It was still   
insane, even though its practicality was beyond dispute.   
The possibilities for abuse of this technology was disturbing,   
to say the least.   
  
They were all looking at the live video feed coming from the   
Pegasus' bridge as Klingon, Federation and Colonial crews were   
attempting to clear the toxins from the damaged warship. He   
was uncomfortable yet grateful accepting help from these   
strangers. But...  
  
But that was a moot point when compared to the living rocks   
running back and forth dissolving re-enforced metal beams and   
flooring on the Pegasus sampling bits here and there, as though   
they were some new kind of tasty sweets.   
  
For a moment, the Colonials believe that these fantastic   
Creatures may have been some robot or even bizarre genetic   
constructs of some kind. Not an independent, sentient life   
forms within this fantastic Federation.  
  
Then one of them spoke, utilizing one of those micro-sized   
translators/communicator devices, it almost scared Apollo out   
of his skin. "This metal tastes so exotic," it commented,   
sounding like a connoisseur, which it probably was. It   
evidently also understood structure and design as well   
because it got to the trapped people without collapsing   
anything around it. As dangerous as the molecular acid the   
Horta produced was, its control was equally impressive.   
Several people flinched as they saw the Horta moved towards   
them, but the creatures ignored them opting instead to patch   
hairline fractures in bulkheads, sealing in precious air.   
  
This area of space had so much life! And the variations were   
enough to keep zoologists and the biological science people   
swamped with work for generations. It was all kind of   
overwhelming.  
  
"That's a nice...thing you have there," Apollo said to the   
Klingon humanoid, standing next to him.   
  
"They're very useful, apparently."  
  
"Yes," the Klingon growled, admiring the Galactica's bridge.   
"They are gentile beasts but they are great warriors as well.   
The Hortas were going to a conference for silicon life forms.   
Even I wish to be at that meeting," he snarled pleasantly.   
"What do rocks talk about?" he asked, looking at Apollo as   
though he expected a coherent answer.  
  
"Sirs," the Scanner tech said to Apollo and the President,   
her voiced raised slightly. "The Federation fleet is arriving."  
  
"Put it on the screen," Apollo said. He felt excited, even   
with the potential loss of the Pegasus he was excited. Next  
to him his father was glued to the screen, wide eyed.  
  
A total of twenty-two ships were transiting what they called   
warp space. Space for several hundred kilometers glowed as   
light and energy was released from those powerful ships   
decelerating into normal space. Superficially, all of them   
looked similar to one another. But as he and his people   
looked closer they could see apparent differences. Several   
were like the Okada and there were two even smaller than   
that. Two were identical to the Khe Sahn, but the majority   
looked like large saucers with engines and a couple of   
pieces attached as an afterthought. Then there were two   
larger ships, Galaxy-class the Klingon called them, which   
looked more like passenger liners than warships. But in the   
lead was the Sovereign-class Enterprise-E, largest and   
unmistakably the most dangerous looking ship in this fleet.   
It was designed to present as little profile as possible and   
boasted a weapons systems that practically screamed the   
message 'don't screw with me'.   
  
The Klingon captain caught Apollo gawking at the specs being   
identified by his computer systems and grunted. "Independently   
targeted quantum torpedo banks, muitphasic shields, ablative   
armor, Ha! And they call that a 'Ship of Peace.' Humans here   
know how to build, too."  
  
The ships formed a protective pattern that circled the entire   
fleet to about one point five light years distant, while the   
Enterprise came to a relative stop two kilometers from the   
port side of the Galactica. The Colonials-and Klingons also-  
galked at the powerful yet graceful ship easing closer as   
though to dock and stopping a mere quarter metric like it was  
the most natural thing in the world.  
***  
  
In the medical bay on the Khe Sahn, Boomer wasn't doing at   
all well. Several of his vertebrae had been crushed and the   
internal damage to his spleen, liver, kidney, and lower   
intestines were extensive. Sheba was next to him, holding   
his hand, oblivious to her own injuries. The Khe Sahn's   
chief medical officer and the Galactica's chief medic   
Cassiopeia were frantically trying to stabilize him.   
He should have been dead but Federation medicine was   
more advanced than Colonial. Even so...   
  
"How is he? Is he going to make it?" The pain and guilt in   
her face was obvious. She knew that it wasn't her fault but   
she felt responsible for him, the damage to her ship and the   
losses to her crew.  
  
The doctor shook his head slightly, gently touched her cheek  
and moved on. She needed space and even Cassiopeia stayed   
some distance away. "Boomer, don't die on me! Not when we're   
so close to making it!" He was conscious even if not completely   
aware. "Did we fight them off? Did we win?"  
  
She could barely hear him. He was leaving her.  
  
"We found the thirteenth colony, Boomer. They came to help   
us," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes so that she   
couldn't see. "Their ships are so beautiful and powerful,   
better than our old stuff any day."  
  
He understood her and smiled. "The kids," he wheezed softly.   
He was no longer breathing, merely coughing now looking up   
at something no one else on this side could possibly see.  
  
The light faded from his eyes and he was gone.  
  
First Deitra and now Boomer, she thought sadly, moving away   
from the bed and on to her father's station. Now there's   
only little Boomer and Therese. What am I going to tell them?  
  
"I'm sorry, Commander," the doctor said softly as he closed   
Boomer's eyes. The man was very compassionate. She could   
see it in his eyes. "I believe however that your father is   
going to pull through. The operations we can perform will   
very likely cause a complete recovery. Your blood elements   
are slightly different from ours due most likely to genetic   
variation and drift. We'll need to synthesize blood for him.   
It'll take him some time to bounce back because of age and   
injury but he should be okay."  
  
Sheba began crying, as the doctor smiled and held her gently.  
  
Cassiopeia quietly moved away, carefully wiping away her own   
tears and she turned her attention towards her other patients.  
  
But first...  
  
"Hey, this is Cassie," she said quietly into her communications   
link she'd brought over. "I am sad to inform the members of   
the Galactica, Pegasus and Fleet Comm, that Colonel Boomer   
has died of internal injuries..."  
  
  
Next: Just one big happy Starfleet  



	6. Just One Big Happy Starfleet

  
Chapter Six  
Just one big happy Starfleet  
  
To Apollo, President Adama, Commander Sheba, Sire Forsen, and   
Dr. Chia, Beaming from the Galactica to Conference Room Two of   
the Enterprise-E, using their disintegration, re-integration   
transportation device with less than a three percent chance of   
error - and why did they have to add that - was simply the bravest   
thing they'd ever done. They expected disorientation. There   
was none. They expected to see something during transport.   
They probably didn't. However, one thing was secretly acknowledged   
by all of them. They'd try to avoid this experience from ever   
happening it again. These people took it for granted. To the   
Colonials, it was simply terrifying.   
  
But it didn't really matter at this point. These people claimed   
to be from Earth! Once that news hit, the entire fleet was   
overjoyed at the confirmations; but the loss of almost four   
thousand people on the eve of this discovery muted the celebration.   
In addition, over seven thousand inhabitants suffered burns, the   
result of radiation exposure, electrical shortages and fire.   
Broken bones, blood loss, and blunt force trauma added itself   
to the mix along with three confirmed cases of stress-related   
breakdowns. Memorials had to be prepared and the many injured   
needed care from every source available. The Starfleet medical   
corps and facilities onboard these starships were excellent and   
many who would have otherwise have died survived their injuries.   
Plus the medics performed standard diagnostics that caught several   
conditions that would have become serious problems in the future.  
  
Moments after they materialized, Captain Jean-Luc Picard greeted   
each one warmly. Small food trays were place strategically in   
the conference room, as there was no time for a formal dinner   
and reception. Several Federation Captains, Captain Kagth,   
Commander Riker, Consoler Deanna Troi and Lieutenant Commanders   
Geordie LaForge and Data were also present. Communications had   
been set up so that the Colonial Council of Twelve, the Klingon   
contingent and the other Captains could participate as necessary.  
  
"I wish this could a celebration instead of a conference towards a   
possible prelude to war," Picard began, "however our situation   
dictates that we deal with this now instead of allowing it to   
continue to fester. A Federation ship and its crew have been   
attacked by an unknown force that may also be responsible for   
the conflict that is now occupying the Romulan forces. We need   
to know more about these Cylons and their intentions. So, Mr.   
President I will ask you to start."  
  
President Adama looked around, his eyes finally resting on Picard   
trying to evaluate him. This Captain was a competent professional   
of that Adama had no doubt. There was maturity about this man, he   
thought. But there was also a hint to sorrow, of pain. And the   
younger woman with the beautiful, dark eyes constantly by his side,  
Deanna he had called her, had a presence about her that caused him   
to suspect that she could read him as well as he could read her   
Captain. He'd also felt her gentle touches in his mind, which   
he permitted. He could have blocked those mind-probes; military   
training from long ago had prepared him to be able to do this and   
more, but he decided against it, allowing her to scan freely.   
Besides he liked her.  
  
Adama looked around and there were tears in his eyes, which he   
wiped Away quickly as he began. "Over twenty yahrens ago, our   
civilization was destroyed by a race called the Cylons. These   
beings were originally a lizard species, which created robot   
servants in humanoid form because they saw that our form was more   
efficient than theirs. They created these robots stronger and larger   
than us and soon became completely dependent upon their creations.   
Now, I realize that this is a somewhat simplistic answer," he stated   
quickly, "but details will be forthcoming later. For some   
reason that has never been made clear, these servants turned   
on their masters and killed them all many thousands of yahrens   
ago. Eventually their machine aggression spread and they attempted   
to subjugate a people called the Hasaris. Our Government   
elected to support the Hasaris and this precipitated a thousand   
yahren war with these Cylons because we dared to defy them.   
They could never beat us and eventually in our arrogance we   
believed we were unbeatable. But we were also tired of this   
unending war and when the Cylons presented the peace treaty to   
Commander Baltar, most of us jumped at the chance. We didn't know   
that Baltar was a traitor and our Battlestar fleet was caught   
unawares on the eve of peace."  
  
"All but one, the Galactica. Our ship tried to defend the   
twelve colonies once we determined that they too would soon   
be under attack. We were too late. Defenseless, all twelve   
our planets and our related colonies were destroyed. We consisted   
of over forty billion people before the Cylon slaughter. We   
escaped with only two hundred and three ships filled to capacity   
with refugees, about three hundred thousand souls. We found the   
Battlestar Pegasus and a few others along the way, but have been   
running ever since looking for the thirteenth colony, called Earth."   
  
"The Cylons programming imperative is simple 'kill all humans'.   
To them that was the entire point of the war and we failed to   
understand that simple fact. Now that we have found you, so   
have they. We've led them right to your doorstep."  
  
"As you have no doubt heard," Picard responded, "all our studies   
indicate that humans originated on Earth. We have also confirmed   
that you are humans with different antibodies and genetic   
characteristics that are very unusual as compared our norms, but   
those unusual characteristics aren't that usual.  
  
"This is true," Data added. "And your case is not that all unusual.   
There have been several instances in which humans have been found   
outside the planet Earth." The Colonials were stunned at the news.   
As they quieted down, Data continued.  
  
"Captain James T. Kirk found several planets which contained humans   
transplanted from Earth by a species we refer to as the Preservers.   
In fact there have been two planets in this galaxy that have been   
found to be almost identical to Earth. Those humans there were   
also transplanted, but the planets were in essence terra-formed   
by some force we have not yet encountered. There may indeed be   
several more 'Earths' that we have not discovered yet. Why these   
planets were designed to mimic Earth-Prime is unclear at this time.   
But the indigenous people found there were clearly human, another   
example of a transplanted people."  
  
"I can't agree," Apollo countered. "Our twelve planets weren't   
even located in this galaxy. Kobol was found in this galaxy in   
the area that you call the Beta quadrant."  
  
"You claim to be from another galaxy?" Riker was shocked and a   
more than a little skeptical.  
  
"I believe that our translators are not yet fully translating   
properly," Data answered. "Their word 'galaxy,' in the context   
in which they are using, it may not be interpreted correctly. If   
we present a map of were they have traveled we may have a better   
understanding of their use of the word."  
  
"Very good. Make it so."  
  
A three dimensional map, being generated from stellar   
cartography, appeared of the Beta quadrant. Adama pointed   
immediately to the very tip of the arm, which contained   
approximately one hundred thousand stars. "That's where our   
worlds were," he said. "Then we moved to there through the   
Great Expanse some twenty thousand light yahrens distant and   
found the planet Kobol."  
  
"Twenty-thousand light years," Picard whispered, impressed.   
"I believe I understand."  
  
"And how long did it take to get there?" Picard asked.  
  
"About three sectons," Starbuck said. "Give or take."  
  
"Three weeks!" Captain Kagth shocked, smiled even more,   
filled with admiration with these human warriors. "How?" he   
stammered.  
  
"We normally use our light speed engines for FLT but for long   
distance travel, we utilize the tunnel-shift drive engines. We   
can detect what we call wave-space pockets which allows us entry   
into what we call transport tunnels in non-normal space. With   
this we can travel great distances but our accuracy is not as   
good as we would like. We can only travel in a general   
straight line direction that we choice before the jump."  
  
"It is a form of transwarp drive," Data stated flatly even as   
Geordie nodded his head in agreement. "They have developed the   
ability to access transwarp vectors, which, in essence are residue   
or by-products of transwarp conduits, even though they have never   
developed warp drive pass the rudimentary sciences, as of yet."  
  
"But each time they use it," Geordie continued, "they undergo   
temporal as well as spatial distortions. We found out that the   
Borg generate a chronometric particle field in front of their   
ships to keep time distortions to a minimum. Colonial technology   
doesn't include this protective field, so in essence they've been   
traveling a lot longer than twenty years."  
  
"Yes, that's true. But, Who are the Borg?"  
  
"We'll discuss them later, Mr. President," Picard said preferring   
to hold off on that particular subject that for the future.   
"Please take a look at your point of origin on the star map.   
Your planetary system is here, isolated from the rest of the   
Beta arm cluster by this dark area here," he continued pointing   
at the three-Dimensional map. "What do you call this area?"  
  
"That is our home galaxy," Starbuck announced.  
  
"This is where the mistranslation occurs. You're calling that   
pocket of stars a galaxy." It was a statement.  
  
"Correct. We also use the name galaxy for the entire galactic   
star cluster. It depends on how and in what context the word   
is used," he said as though it was the most natural thing in   
the world.   
  
"You, your planets and indeed the entire stellar cluster were  
completely isolated from the rest of the galactic arm. You had   
to get past the Dark Expanse to reconnect to the main   
the rest of the galaxy. The only other area that you could have   
traveled to would have been here, which is in the center of that   
dark expanse," he said pointing to the dark region imposed on the   
three dimensional map.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And the Cylons came from the relative same area that your   
colony worlds resided?" Riker asked, confirming what most   
already suspected.  
  
"In our region of the galaxy, again yes."  
  
"And they've chased you all this time?"  
  
"Yes. They're kind of one track minded on this, something to   
do with their programming," Starbuck said, somewhat sarcastically.   
"Look we need your help. We're running on empty fumes here. And   
they're your enemies as well as ours."  
  
"That remains to be determined," Picard said evenly.  
  
"Ah, Captain Picard," Captain Duvalier said coolly. "These   
Cylons attacked and killed a significant number of the crew   
of the Okada. In fact, I think they laid a trap specifically   
to disable and capture the Okada. We monitored the conversations   
between the Okada and the Cylons. They understood Federation   
standard and understood exactly what they intended to accomplish.   
The conversation was extremely provocative on their part. And   
even more so with us. The Cylon base ship...?"  
  
"Basestar," Adama corrected.  
  
"Basestar," she said revising the word before continuing,   
"attacked the fleet then ignored the Galactica and the rest of   
the fleet to attack our sister ship. They could have destroyed   
the Pegasus but chose only to damage it so that the Okada would   
have to intervene. They could have used transporters onboard the   
Galactica and any other ship they wished and slaughtered everyone.   
But they didn't, because   
they didn't want to. What they wanted was the Okada, Federation   
technology, data on our defenses, strategies, and territories.   
You've seen our recordings and examined the Colonial records. I   
believe that they really want us dead, simply because we're human."  
  
"Captain," Picard began, "your points are well taken and I   
understand what you're saying. But we have not declared war yet   
on this new entity. If we simply attack, then we may be   
exasperating the problem. I hoping to avoid another war," he   
continued. We must try diplomacy before we began shooting at   
them."  
  
"With due respect," Captain Nashta of the Borallis chimed   
in, "I don't agree with you." He was young Betazoid who achieved   
his rank and considerable recognition during the Dominion wars.   
He was brash and a good representative of a new breed of Federation   
officer resulting from the war. "We may not have declared war   
on the Cylon Empire but they have declared war on us."   
  
Look at us," he continued. "We're still in a so-called   
undeclared war with the Borg and we're keeping a serious eye   
on the Romulan Empire. And if you believe that the Romulans and   
the Federation are friends just because they came to help us   
during the war, then you're mistaken. These Cylons have made   
their intentions perfectly clear. The fact that we're here with   
a small fleet says that we're taking them seriously and that if   
we choose to negotiate, it will be from a position of strength.   
Starfleet is tired of constantly being on the defensive, all the   
time. Right now our situation is tense and our resources are   
strained because of the last war. We cannot afford to simply   
wait for the next attack and the next, and the next."  
  
"Remember you were the one who initiated the coming together   
of this fleet in the first place. You must have recognized the   
threat," he said, finishing.   
  
Picard hadn't expected this reaction and his anger was   
visible. Why couldn't Nashta and probably several others,   
judging from their expressions and Deanna's look of concern,   
understand that war wasn't the answer if peace could be   
maintained? More importantly was this wet-nosed kid lecturing   
him on diplomacy and the Prime Directive? "We are not at   
war with the Romulans and relations have been better with them   
now than ever before," he growled. "Of course, I am aware of   
what the Romulans are capable of, but we may have to help them   
in order to help ourselves. It's called enlightened self-interest.   
The Cylons are a new threat which needs to be dealt with, but non  
-violently, if possible."  
  
Captain Nashta was appeased in the slightest. "And what's going to   
happen when they find out that the Cylons were violating their   
territories to hunt Humans down?" He looked around answering   
his own question. "They're going to blame the Federation and   
our 'friendly' relations dill disappear like the wind, to say   
the least." The anger in his voice was evident and everyone   
could see the resentment plaster on his face.  
  
"We will talk first to the Cylon representatives and then   
respond accordingly." Picard said tartly. He didn't like   
they way this conversation was going. This schism could   
ultimately cause difficulties in the future. And he hated   
being censured by this wet-behind-the-ears boy.  
  
"I've read your records on your first contact with the Borg,   
Captain," Nashta said evenly, his voice regaining some of the   
control. "They sliced your ship up like cheese before you even   
attempted to defend your ship. Your tried to disable that cube's  
deflector array rather than think of the safety of your own crew."  
  
"Captain!"  
  
"What I'm saying," he continued, "is that I don't want my   
crew placed in danger because of your need to over negotiate   
with what may turn into a serious threat to the Federation. We are   
the ones out here defending our people and I don't want to wind up   
fighting another defensive war."  
  
"Nashta," Duvalier snarled, "You're out of line. Starfleet   
isn't a military organization. We're out here shooting at   
other folks because we're defenders of Peace, not aggressors.   
I have no compunctions about blowing the Cylons to hell and   
back but if that can be avoided, we should for it. Picard's   
experiences..."  
  
Picard cut her off with a slash of his hand. "Captain Nashta,"   
he began tartly, "Negotiations in peaceful contact with unknown   
species is a core reason why we are out here. Contrary to your   
assumptions, we're not the sum of this universe. Just because   
we're out here doesn't mean that the values we have are   
representative of everyone else. That point has been drilled   
into all Starfleet cadets from the day one. The Klingons, the   
Gorn, the Tholians, even the Cardassians are not simply   
inconveniences for our Great and Glorious Federation. We all   
share this galaxy. It's our responsibility to represent the best   
of ourselves, to explore and learn from the marvelous opportunities   
afforded us. We are not out here to shoot at everybody we don't   
happen to like.  
  
"The Cylons..."  
  
"Don't interrupt me, Captain," Picard snapped. This was getting   
out of hand and now he exerted his authority to quell this   
disagreement. "I'm aware of the threat the Cylons represent,   
even more so than you. But I will not precipitate a war with   
them until their actions dictate our course of action. We are   
a defensive force and we will act accordingly."  
  
"And that's the reason we're having problems with everybody   
in the first place," he muttered as he looked at Picard, his   
eyes hard. "After all we don't want to star an unnecessary war.   
We need to talk to the Cylons." The man was defiant.  
  
"Yes, we do."  
***  
  
The Colonial representatives were slightly startled at the   
hostility with seemingly erupted from nowhere.  
  
"These people are almost as bad as we are," Starbuck said almost   
admiringly. "Haven't they seen what these new Cylons can do?   
Don't they know how dangerous they are?"  
  
"No. And that's exactly the point," Adama replied quietly.   
"They're worse than ever but these people have their own   
problems. So, as a result, they don't fully understand the   
danger the Cylons represent. They seem more concerned about   
their enemies, the Borg things or whatever they call them and   
others in local space. This I can understand but I must impress   
on them as to what they will be fighting against."  
  
"Besides what did you expect when we reached Earth?" Sire   
Forsen asked, jumping into the hushed conversation. "That these   
people would be perfect and have all the answers solved, just   
waiting for us?" Leaning over towards his delegation,   
"personally, I find it refreshing that they have freedom of   
expression. It shows that freedom is present here even in   
their military. But it's also true that they may inadvertently   
repeat history with the Cylons and this we must avoid at all cost."  
  
"But how do we impress upon these people the danger they   
represent?" Starbuck asked, "let the Cylons blow up one of their   
worlds?"  
  
"Look," Apollo stated, "if someone came to our systems running   
away from enemies with the power of the Cylons, we would be   
skeptical also and, we would be cautious about starting any   
kind of conflict over a few thousand souls."  
  
"The Cylons are their enemy as well."  
  
"They don't know this yet," Adama replied.  
  
"Well then," Apollo said, "let's clear this up right now." He   
turned to Captain Picard. "Sir," he began, "the Cylons that   
just attacked us are not the same beings that we have been   
fighting and running from these past twenty yahrens. Even a   
fleet of Basestars would have proven no match for one or two   
of your starships. Your fleet assembled here could have overrun   
the combined power of the entire Empire, its colonies and us also,   
for good measure. But now, they're much more powerful than   
anything we've encountered before. And this seems to be a recent   
occurrence."  
  
"If you look at the schematics," he continued, calling up a   
diagram of a Cylon centurion, "this is what we've been   
fighting." The diagram present indicated the internal   
representation a standard centurion. "Notice that the main   
computer processor is embarrassingly simplistic by your   
standards. They beat us not by tactical superiority but by   
force of numbers and our own foolish obsession for peace with   
an untrustworthy enemy."  
  
"But," he continued, "what we faced a few centars ago is a   
different construct altogether. They're far smarter, and more   
durable and their overall technology seems to have made a   
quantum leap over our, what used to be, similar technologies.   
They can now overwhelm us easily."  
  
"Commander Apollo is correct." Data said. "We have a prisoner,   
a survivor from one of the small raider fighter craft. It is in   
a maximum-security cell under a level ten force field. We were   
unable to de-activate its primary weapons system because it   
regenerated its internal weaponry each time we removed them.   
When it finally auto-reactivated we were unable to continue our   
scans, but the data we did get is far more sophisticated than   
what is represented in this diagram we are presently seeing."  
  
Data switched three-dimensional image to the security brig.   
The observers saw a Cylon warrior standing akimbo inside the   
security cell guarded by three security personnel in heavy   
armor, each carrying compression type-three phaser rifles.   
It single eye rotated serenely, taking in everything,   
revealing nothing.  
  
"May I speak to it?" President Adam asked of Captain Picard.   
Picard gave him an affirmative nod and Data opened a vid channel   
directly to the cell. "Do you know who I am?" he asked.  
  
The Cylon answered in its natural mechanical voice. "You are   
President Adama, Commander of the Battlestar Galactica, leader   
of the Council of Twelve of the rebel humans. You are to be   
scheduled for termination."  
  
"Hardly, Cylon," he responded dryly. "You have tried but you   
haven't destroyed us yet."  
  
"You and your humans would not be scheduled for termination   
if you would have submitted to Cylon rule," it responded. "Now   
that we are omnipotent we can afford to be generous. Surrender   
to us and we will show you mercy. You and your leaders will be   
executed, but the other humans will be allowed to live in   
controlled areas subjected to the will of the Cylon Empire."  
  
"And how would you guarantee the lives of the humans of the   
Colonial fleet?" Picard asked. His eyes were dark and he was   
unusually curt in his question.  
  
"The moon of Sepicor in the Beta quadrant will be terraformed   
for the human colony where they can be monitored and cared for   
by the Empire. All Colonial technology will be removed. They   
will convert to an agricultural society for the benefit of all   
concerned. This is the will of the Cylon Empire."  
  
"And what if they choose to become something more than what you   
want them to be?"  
  
"They will be allowed to submit a request for change." The Cylon   
completed the statement, said nothing more.  
  
"Frack! You believe that? Starbuck yelled. "There's no way   
we'd allow ourselves to submit to their rule. They're liars!   
They want of all dead!"  
  
"Indeed," Picard said. He activated his comm. "Mr. Angaa,   
where is the location of the nearest Cylon Basestar?"  
  
"Three point two light-years in the Romulan neutral zone.   
It's the same ship that attacked the Okada. There are two   
other similar ships supporting it."  
  
"Good. Open communications with it." He turned towards   
President Adama asking him to join him in this conference.  
  
"Yes Sir," came Angaa's answer. "I..." he stopped almost   
immediately. Sir, we have a general alert! A transwarp conduit   
has just opened in sector zero-zero-one. All ships in the area   
are converging. It's a Borg signature sir!"  
  
Captain Picard and the other Federation officers hissed in   
dismay. This was the worst of times to have them to contend   
with. The problem here demanded immediate attention. But the   
Borg...   
  
"At maximum warp nine it would take at least three hours forty   
two minutes to reach Earth," Data said. Then he added, "It seems   
we have done this before."  
  
"Mr. Angaa, put Starfleet frequency one-four-eight-six on audio   
and pip it through to the conference room now."  
  
"Aye, Sir."  
  
"What's happening?" Sire Forsen asked Apollo, Starbuck and the   
President.   
  
"One micron, we're about to communicate with that Cylon   
Basestar and the next, its like they've forgotten all about   
us. Are the Borg that dangerous?"  
  
"And if they are, should we even be here in this section of   
space?" Starbuck added.  
  
"I don't know," the president answered. "It's the enemy you   
know verses the enemy you don't. There's so much we have to   
take in consideration."  
  
"Sir, another message," Mr. Angaa said quickly. "It's a Borg sphere...Federation ships have opened fire....the sphere is   
still coming...wait something just happened to the sphere. It's   
self-destructing. So is the conduit."  
  
"Self destructing?" Riker said. "Did our ships manage...?"  
  
"Sirs! Everyone!" the communications officer said excitedly.   
"It's Voyager! She blew up the sphere. From the inside!   
She's home!"  
  
"Voyager destroyed the sphere? How?"  
  
"It doesn't matter," Picard said smiling like everyone else.   
He'd have to have a long, long talk with Captain Katherine   
Janeway at the earliest available opportunity. But right now   
he had another priority. "Mr. Angaa, will you please carry   
out my last order now?"  
  
"Ah, yes sir," he said flushing slightly. "Opening a channel   
now." A few later he added, "they're responding."  
  
An Image appeared. It was Spectre. "Yes," it said quaintly.   
"How may I help you human?"  
  
Picard looked at the Cylon image and his hackles rose. The   
entity was completely robotic as he'd been told, but even he   
could sense the coldness radiating from it.  
  
"I'm Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship   
Enterprise. We are trying to seek a peaceful resolution to   
this dispute that has recently occurred," he said putting on   
his best diplomatic face.  
  
"Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship Enterprise?"   
the mechanical being said sarcastically. "I see a pattern here   
for a penchant for names, Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the   
Federation starship Enterprise. We too have an understanding   
of the importance of names. I am called Lord Specter of the   
Poison Mist, member of the great Cylon Imperial allegiance.   
Why is it that you have attacked my peace-loving, exploration   
ship, destroyed members of my crew and in general attempted to   
provoke a war with the Cylon Empire?"   
  
"It doesn't sound like a robot to me," Riker whispered to   
Starbuck. "What kind of programming does this thing have?"  
  
"We have no desire to provoke a war with your people,"   
Picard continued. But you did attack our ship and killed   
several members of the crew," he said in his best diplomatic   
voice.  
  
"We felt threatened," it replied smoothly. "Captain Roberta   
Ikata demanded that we cease and desist in defending ourselves   
against the cruel aggressions of the Battlestars Galactica and   
Pegasus. We couldn't do that in all good conscience."  
  
The creature was a liar, Picard realized. Deanna wasn't needed to   
help him make this determination. His own gut feelings were   
sufficient.  
  
"Do you speak for your people?" he asked.  
  
"Do you speak for your people, Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the   
Federation starship Enterprise?"   
  
Picard sense that Spectre was enjoying trying to irritate him.   
But he determined that it wouldn't work. "Yes I do."  
  
"Well, I won't," Spectre replied ever so slowly. "But I will   
have you speak to the Imperium Supreme and he will convey the   
will of the Cylon people."  
  
"Imperium Supreme? Not Imperious Leader?" Apollo said quietly   
in the background. "What is going on here?"  
  
  



	7. Conversations with a Cylon Lord

Chapter Seven  
Conversations with a Cylon Lord  
  
Spectre's image faded to be replaced almost immediately with the image of a supremely bizarre, three lobed mockery of an organic being. Its five sets of optical sensors were dark red and pulsating slowly. Behind it were six Imperial guards, at first appearing similar to the prisoner they were holding, but upon closer observation they appeared subtly different. Unlike that silver plated Cylon these were of a dark golden hue with dual rotating eyes. They radiated power and a malevolence that actually frightened Picard and the others watching the image. The heavy weapons in their possession reminded Picard and the crew of small cannons able to punch holes through the hull of the Enterprise with ease. There were also several Cylons that looked similar to Spectre, attempting to generate an appearance of being simple administrators, and failing miserably. But the dark golden warriors were riveting. Every single one of them looked threatening.  
  
Those are his personal guards, Picard realized. This entire setup is for our benefit, a form of intimidation. They knew we wanted to talk. The overall vision was impressive and it would have worked on someone else. But he'd been tortured by the Cardassians, assimilated by the Borg and strung out to dry by his own guilt after Wolf three-five-nine. Next to that, few things truly intimidated him anymore. And that was one of the things that frightened him most.  
  
"I am the Imperium Supreme," the Leader said, its voice portraying both royal authority and sinister intent simultaneously. "Speak human."  
  
Adama and the other Colonials hissed upon hearing the voice of their hated enemy.  
  
Meanwhile, Picard himself bristled slightly at the leader's insolent tone. "I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship Enterprise and I represent a league of worlds whose territory your ship has violated," he stated plainly. "You have attacked and damaged a Federation starship and killed many members of that crew. You also damaged and destroyed several non-combatant starships carrying civilians inside Federation territory during the same altercation. This could well be interpreted as an act of war. However it is my wish that we settle this before it escalates into a situation that we would both regret."  
  
"Human," it began, sounding as though it had decided to grant some magnanimous boon. "For over a thousand of your years we have been at war with the Colonial humans in the Beta quadrant as they continually mistreated and violated the will of the Cylon race. We won the war and now in our galaxy, we are supreme. There is absolute peace among the races guided by our benevolent rule."   
  
"Did the Colonials tell you," it continued, "how they destroyed the planet Carillon along with an entire species called the Ovions simply because they wished to escape us? Did the Colonials tell you how they abandoned over thirty smaller fleets containing their own people in order to simply escape? Did they tell you of the rules of war, that the loser of said war should be exterminated in order that peace would prevail?"  
  
  
By the intonations in his voice, the entire crew and the other spectators immediately understood that this alien was enjoying giving this little history lesson to the unworthy. The intent was to incite fear. But it didn't produce fear as it intended but it did produce disgust - and hatred, galvanizing and wedding the Federation to Colonials in ways the Supreme Leader of the Cylon race never intended.   
  
"What other fleets?" demanded a shocked Adama. Until this moment neither he nor his people had imagined that others had attempted-and actually succeeded!-in getting away from the holocaust that ensued just after the defeat.   
  
"Yes, Adama, " it responded in that hated voice. "Several fleets that never rendezvous with your Galactica coordinates, in time, were exterminated. They ranged from a three-ship convoy to one of over six hundred. The Alliance expended almost two yahrens to eliminate them all. It took much time and effort to track them down, with resources, I might add, that took our full attention away from you. We were fortunate to eliminate ninety-eight percent of the human fleet, over twenty three hundred ships scattered throughout the former Colonial territories. Now, we the Cylon people are finally putting an end to the war by the extermination of the life form known as man, so that peace may prevail."  
  
The Colonials bristled at the comments but said nothing. But the guilt and horror of what was told them hit with the same impact an asteroid would, hitting a small moon. Never had they imagined that almost an additional two thousand ships had escaped the Cylon extermination net! And none of those who had attempted to flee survived.   
  
Only them.   
  
"This costly and terrible war will end only when you give the Colonials and the Battlestars Galactica and Pegasus over to us along with the heads of its officers and the criminal Adama. And of course the three hundred thousand fleet members will be turned over to us," it added.   
  
"This is a small price to pay when considered against the billions that will cease to function if there is war among us. We also claim the heads of the crew of the Okada and the Khe Sahn as recompense for the damage they have perpetrated against my Basestar. Do this and there will be no war between our people. The species called man in the Alpha quadrant will live in peace with the Cylon people. This is a perfectly honorable agreement. Accept it and live in peace."  
  
Everyone who heard the Imperium Supreme were horrified and disgusted, the Colonial representatives because it was possible that these Federation people might actually consider this agreement; the Federation representatives were disgusted that this proposal was even made.   
  
Picard's face was flushed as he prepared his answer. "Neither of those proposals are acceptable," he said simply. "We will not give them over to you and we will not sacrifice our people for your appeasement. If you choose to try to take them by force we will resist you with everything we have. Please take that into consideration," he said coldly.   
  
"Then take this into consideration, Captain Picard," it retorted. "Our war will be, of course, extended to you. The entire point of the war with humans was for the elimination of the life form known as man. By your attitude you have proven yourselves blood of their blood. You are they and they are you. I must assume this war will now continue until we have achieved our goal." The screen faded to black.  
  
Next to Picard, President Adama was stunned, not only by the words, but because he'd recognized that hated voice. "Count Iblis," he said quietly, barely wishing to voice that vile name.  
  
Apollo eased next to him, equally stunned. "Father isn't that..."  
  
"Yes." Adama realized the implications immediately.   
  
"Does that mean that he somehow programmed the Cylon Imperious Leader so long ago?"  
  
"I don't know," his father replied. "But it makes so much sense now. And maybe even more so now because that may explain the changes in our old enemy."  
  
Beside them Captain Picard was frowning. It was clear to him and everyone else who monitored the conversation that the Supreme Imperium wanted this war. He half- way suspected this exchange would end this way. But the response of the Colonials towards their enemy surprised him slightly as he realized that they'd never seen the face of their adversary before. But even more so was the fact they seemed to recognize the voice moreso than the actual face of the enemy. "Who is this Count Iblis?" Picard said interrupting them.   
  
"An extremely powerful, ancient being, far more advanced than anything we could imagine. From an evolutionary standpoint, he is as far above us as we are above bacteria. We came in conflict with him. To put it simply," Apollo continued, "he lost and promised revenge upon us many yahrens past. I've never heard the Imperious Leader much less this Supreme Imperium speak before, but the voice is unmistakable. I believe his hand is in this entire situation."  
  
"Well, I heard him, the Imperious Leader, I mean once," Starbuck said. "But I didn't make the connection, even though now it's obvious."   
  
"You could call him the Devil." Starbuck looked at Picard and the others trying to gauge their reactions. Speaking of devils to those who never experienced them seemed ludicrous and he was weary. But they had to know what this creature was, just in case. He was surprised when the Federation didn't react with skepticism.   
  
"We've had our own devils also." Dr. Beverley Crusher whispered, speaking for the first time. "Actually, more like a constant pain in the butt," she said unconsciously rubbing her hip area for emphasis. Starbuck forced himself to avert his eyes.   
  
"Q," Riker said.  
  
"What's a Q?"  
  
"Another one of those so-called omnipotent beings that just loves to play with us mere mortals."  
  
"Q," Picard echoed. "He's playing games with us again." He actually sounded disappointed.  
  
"Or maybe not," Beverley replied. "I really think he was trying to warn us. We all saw how he was this time," she said her mind drifting back to that previous meeting. "I don't think this was one of his games."  
  
"But at this point it really doesn't matter," Riker said. He looked at the Colonials. "Is it true about the planet Carillon? Did you destroy the planet? And what about those other ships? You just left them?"  
  
"Directly no, indirectly yes," Apollo snarled. "We had no clue concerning the others. And I don't like the implication in your voice, Commander Riker. You weren't there. You don't know what the situation was."  
  
"You're right," Riker countered. "We don't know and that's the point. That's why I'm asking the question. I would like to know exactly what happened."  
  
"I'll tell the story," Starbuck said jumping in, half stunned and half-amused that he, not Apollo was the one playing the mediator instead of being the one about to place his foot in his mouth. "Short version. After we lost the war we fled to Carillon for fuel extracted from a mineral called tylium. Obviously, we were going on a long, long trip. Once there, we found a casino full of humans and other aliens who had no idea what had just happened to the colony worlds. What was worse was that many of our people wanted to stay there and enjoy themselves. They were acting like nothing had even happened. Why, I don't know," he said totally perplexed about that, even after all these years.   
  
"I've come to the conclusion," President Adama continued, "that most of our people never believed that we actually were in a wartime situation and that we faced extinction. The reality of it all never really touched them. The concept of extinction was simply too alien a concept for our people to accept."  
  
"There have been many cases like this," Deanna added quickly. "On Earth, the eastern European Jewish population during the mid-nineteen hundreds, largely ignored the events around them, until a maniac called Hitler systematically exterminated a very large portion of their population. Many of them truly couldn't believe that someone could truly do things like that to them. Your people were well-sheltered, protected. For the most part the Cylons were most considered as an abstraction, something that existed far, far away. When that abstraction became a horrifying reality, most people still couldn't comprehend the realness of it all. Like so many others in our quadrant, it was disconcerting to look truth in the face."   
  
Yes, probably true Starbuck thought. When he had time, he'd contemplate those words from that oh-so beautiful woman. "Anyway, we found that the native Ovions were using the casino as a front for the Cylons. They were using our people as a living food source for their young! Apollo and I, and Boxey and our chief medic Cassiopeia, who we saved from the feeding chambers, got into a major firefight with the Cylons in the caves below and ignited the tylium deposits. The chain reaction eventually destroyed the planet. We lost so many, many people down there. By the way." He added, 'the Cylons were laying in wait for us. But we fought our way out. Details later if you need it, Commander Riker," Starbuck added sarcastically.  
  
"They have been tracking and harassing us ever since," Apollo added. "We couldn't stop, or settle down or even make serious long term contact with other races because no one we encountered had the capability to withstand a Cylon attack. They almost caught us several times but we always escaped. Sometimes we would have a couple of yahrens peace. That's how we had time to develop some of the offensive fighters to aid in our defenses. But now..."  
  
"Now they're stronger than ever and we don't know why," Sire Forsen finished. "Their technology is a quantum leap over anything we've previously encountered.  
  
"Well, they've made their intentions quite clear," Picard said quietly. "The question is what are going to do about them and you? What is it that you want?" he asked with an official aire. Plainly it was a signal for the Colonials to 'officially' ask for asylum.  
  
President Adama turned to Picard and the other officers in the conference room , took a breath and started. "Well, we, the remnant of the Twelve colonies, original descendents of the planet Kobol, formally ask for protection of and sanctuary in the territories of the Federation of Planets. We request that you take us in as refugees and it is our hope that we will be allowed to settle on a planet within protected Federation Territory or that we be allowed to relocate to Earth, the home of our human brethren. I understand the political implications of these actions and the problems we bring, but I hope we can achieve a goal of protection for all concerned against both our enemies and yours."  
  
"Your proposal will be recorded and sent to the Federation for review," Picard announced formally. "I don't foresee a problem." Then he smiled as he spoke. "Frankly at this point, we have refugees relocating everywhere. The war has upset many lives and many inhabitable planets within the Federation are being colonized as a result. Your three hundred thousand people should not present a problem and you'll have the choice of going just about anywhere you wish. First however, we need to remove you and your people from this area."  
  
His eyes became distant as he continued. "I have found that the machine mentality never forgets," he said as his crew watched him carefully, understanding the import of his words. "And, it will find some way to fulfill its function even if it's illogical, one way or the other."  
***   
  
Starbuck, Apollo and many, many others were stunned into silence at the news that Boomer had died onboard the Khe Sahn. Another loss of a precious friend that had been with them from the beginning of the epic journey that they had almost completed was Athena's, Apollo's younger sister, comment. The total loss of lives including crewmembers of the Okada exceeded fifteen thousand people. Instead of a time for celebration it would be a time for mourning. Starbuck, using the Enterprise's transporter (something he'd swore he'd never do again about two centars earlier), beamed over to the Khe Sahn to meet up with Cassiopeia in sickbay. They had been close at one time and they still were but he waited to long, played with commitments to fast, to loose and the moment passed them by. It was his fault and he knew it and in realizing this he felt the guilt at night when his dreams tried to justify his actions. The moment had indeed passed them by, but his heart hadn't truly accepted it. Especially now, when she was so close that he could smell her perfume. He remembered when the simple sound of her voice would almost send him over the edge. But now, he pushed those memories back as he saw the tears in her dark brown eyes. She needed him now, needed his strength for support.  
  
"We were so close," she whispered. "We could have saved him if we could have gotten to him sooner. The equipment here!" The doctors and sickbay on the Khe Sahn was magnificent and miracles could be performed here but Boomer had been beyond even their advanced capabilities. "We saved so many. But not him, not him or the others."  
  
"I'll miss him," he whispered also. "He was my," he stop, correcting himself. "He was our friend. Cassie was crying and that part of him that never let go simply snapped. Before he realized it he'd grabbed her and held on like nothing he'd ever held before. "He will be remembered and little Boomer and Therese will want for nothing." That sounded so fracken formal he thought.  
  
"Starbuck, is that all you can think of to say?" Her voice was full of bitterness. The confused look on Starbuck's face confirmed to her that he had no clue as to what she trying to convey to her great and almighty warrior. "Why are you even here, Starbuck?" Certainly, it wasn't for me," she said pushing him away. "You always come trying to save me, trying to comfort me. And you always manage to do that. Then when I think there's hope for the two of us, you leave."  
  
"Cassie, I..."  
  
"Starbuck," she whispered. "As a warrior you're always there to save me. The Colonial service trained you well. But when I needed you as a man, you ran like a scared daggit. What is your problem?" The woman was crying now and it had very little to do with the death of Boomer and everything to do with Starbuck. "We're both older, matured adults now and our whole lives together has come to nothing. Why did I waste time my time with you? Why did you make me waste my time loving you?" Quickly she turned towards another patients, trying to keep the tears from overwhelming her.  
  
"Look," he retorted, "what could I do? Every time I went on a mission, it could have been my last. I didn't want to Seal with you one day and leave you a widow the next."   
  
'Liar," the blond medic responded matter-of-factly. "Everyone else Sealed, including Boomer and Deitra and you know how they fought with each other for yahrens. But they had two kids and a wonderful life," she said as the tears began flowing again. "But we have nothing. And we both know why, don't we? I should have stayed away from you!"  
  
The truth was, he enjoyed his freedom and being Sealed meant responsibility...and the realization that he was growing older now, passing the baton to the next generation. He wasn't ready for that yet. "Woman, what are you talking about?" he said, feeling very uncomfortable about where this conversation was going.   
  
"The Great Starbuck never wanted to be Sealed to a Socialator. I was always good enough to be around but never good enough to be with."  
  
"OH, PLEASE!" he screamed, causing several patients and doctors to look at him disapprovingly. "My mind never even when that direction," he snarled, quieter this time.   
  
"Starbuck, I love you so much," she said. "But you're always searching for the perfect woman and I simply don't fit that in that equation. And I guess I never will," she added, plunging the knife in as much as possible. I'm tired of all these games you play. Please stay away."  
  
Enraged-and terrified, he stormed out of sickbay, leaning on the nearest bulkhead he found. Inside he was raging. Talk about guilt trips, his mind screamed. What has she done to me? What am I going to do now? More importantly, what should I do?  
  
A few moments later, he went back into sickbay and dragged her out towards someplace quieter. This wasn't over yet. He intended to get in the last word here. Even if it rose up and implanted it's teeth deep into his butt.  
***  
  
Onboard the Enterprise-E, Apollo and his father found Commander Sheba in Ten-forward. Just a touch earlier, both men had talked with the crew of the Okada, and the Hortas, thanking the rock creatures and expressing sorrow to the crew for the loss of their captain and other crew members. She almost didn't recognize them as she continually stared out the window towards the Pegasus. It was stabilized now and several ugly gashes had temporary seals, but still, the horrendous damage was very evident. Four inertia dampeners were now attached to the stern in preparation for towing. The Okada was rapidly moving off into the distance, being tractored by another frigate to Starbase thirty-two.   
  
Silently, they stood behind her, saying nothing.   
  
"I couldn't stop it," she said finally breaking the silence after more than a half centar. "I allowed my fathers' ship to be destroyed. I killed all those people. I got Boomer killed."  
  
"No," her husband responded. "We couldn't stop the Cylons. They're more powerful than we could have imagined. But it wasn't our time to die. You, no we," he corrected, "did what we could. And we found the earth people. And that counts for a lot."  
  
"But my ship is gone, my people dead," she said. Her voice sounded like the echo of an open grave. "I can't go back. How can I face them? I can't do that."  
  
"Sheba," Apollo said softly. "The Pegasus survived. You know that." Then he turned somber as he continued speaking. The despair in his voice was evident enough to give his wife pause. "We discovered that there were more than two thousand other ships that tried to make the rendezvous with the Galactica. I don't think any of them made it to safety. If we had only waited a little longer!"  
  
Sheba looked at him. "I didn't know." Instantly her concern transferred itself from herself to her loved ones. "There was no way you could have known. And even if you did, you couldn't have done anything to help them."  
  
"We were responsible for them," her husband said despairingly.   
  
"But you and the others are alive," someone said from behind, who begun offering them all some type of chocolate flavored, sparking nectar. "And ultimately, your sacrifices and determination have brought you and your charges to safety," she continued. "If you really think about it, you shouldn't be here at all."  
  
Maybe these people didn't fully understand proper protocol when it came to private conversations. "Who are you?" Adama asked of this dark skinned woman who had so rudely interrupted this most private of moments.   
  
"My name's Guinan and I'm the temporary Bartender here," she answered with a matter-of fact smile.   
  
"I'm sorry. This is a private conversation," he said. He tried to be polite but he was in no mood for a servitor to horn in on this most delicate of conversations at this most delicate of times.  
  
"Of course, it's private," she answered, ignoring the hint. "That's why you're all so miserable on the eve of the greatest experience in your life. What you need is a different perspective," she said.   
  
"Think about it. You've brought a new war to the Federation. And these strangers," she said pointing to captain Picard and Commander Riker who were just entering the room, "these people have embraced you and will do everything in their power to protect you. They don't know you yet, but they're about to put their lives on the line for you people. That, in itself, gives you an idea as to how they are and what they stand for."  
  
"Some of them have a strange way of showing it," he muttered. Apollo, still smarting from the earlier talks, looked at Riker. Riker returned the gaze with a smile that seemed to indicate that there was and had never been a problem.   
  
"It was his way of feeling you out, finding out just where you stood." Guinan said. "After all, at this very moment, no one group really knows the other, yet."  
  
"Wait a minute," Apollo snapped. "How did you know what happened?"  
  
"I'm a bartender. That's what I do," she answered, smiling even more.  
  
There was something about this woman, they all realized at once. She may be pretending to be a servitor but was more likely security.   
  
"What else do you know, Guinan?" Apollo said, trying to feel her out. The instant he said that he winced. He had been as subtle as a Cylon trying to sing and dance.   
  
"That depends on whom I'm talking to," she said sweetly. "I've heard about your people and I can relate to the experiences you've had very easily."  
  
"I'm sorry, you have no idea what we've gone through," President Adam said, his eyes glazing as he remembered all the pain and sorrow of the past twenty yahrens.   
  
Captain Picard and Riker came over and joined the impromptu conversation. Both men were silent, learning years ago not to interrupt Guinan when she was in 'teaching' mode. Riker simply grabbed one of the chocolate drinks, slurped some down loudly and smiled innocently at Apollo. His eyes almost seemed to say I'm sorry, but I had to know. At the same time there was something defiant about him. He struck Apollo as a man completely used to ordering others around and having them do it.   
  
Well, so was he.   
  
"Actually, you've had it good, relatively speaking, Mr. President," she countered. Many of your people are still alive after you ordeal and your culture is still relatively stable. I imagine that you believed that once you found Earth, your problems would be solved. Well, I suggest that you change that belief."   
  
"Listen,' she continued, oblivious to their withering stares. "What's left of my people are scattered across this galaxy with very little hope of getting back together. Our enemies, here we call them the Borg, tore through our system and there was little to nothing left of my people when they moved on. They make the Cylon Empire, as you've known them, look puny by comparison. As I've said before, you people have had it easily, relatively speaking. At least they had the opportunity to simply die and not suffer a existence of a soulless automation."  
  
"Okay," Apollo said frustrated. This, this bartender actually intimidated him and for the life of him he couldn't understand why. "Everybody here keeps mentioning the Borg. Just who are these Borg everyone seems to talk about?"  
  
"They're our analog to your Cylons, but worse." Picard said. His looks produced some dubious stares from the Colonials. "They're cybernetic organisms, part organic, part machine which exists as a hive mind. They are very, very advanced. Their purpose is to assimilate cultures into their collective. They take everything, the mind, the body, and the technology. You are forced to become part of them. Your own wishes are irrelevant, so to speak," he said smiling grimly at his private joke. "Their ships are mostly cubed and oval shaped and they sweep through entire systems destroying everything in their paths. We've fought them on several occasions, each time just barely defeating them. They even attempted time travel to change the history of the Federation. They are a plague on our galaxy - a plague that needs to be stamped out.   
  
Picard had a haunted look that the Colonials had seen far too many times. The fight between him and the Borg was very, very personal. Why? It didn't matter because they understood and could respect those feelings. These Borg were obviously something they were glad they hadn't run into during their travels. "Given time, they adapt to all offensive and defensive weapons and tactics," Riker continued. "They respect no one, but those who are more powerful than they are and even then... Everyone else are considered something they can consume."  
  
"Maybe they'll consume the Cylons," Sheba said half seriously.   
  
"Maybe," Riker commented. The thought of the Borg assimilating anybody disturbed him. Besides they've consumed enough already. "But nothing is ever that easy."  
  
"Tell me about it."  
  
Everyone sat down in one of the booths Guinan had guided them to. It was quiet and isolated-as much as a room filled with people watching everything you did could be- and the seats were comfortable. Once seated, Guinan quickly moved on to her other customers.   
  
"I didn't know that humans had spread so far in the galaxy, Adama said to Picard. I'm amazed that there are so many human colonies in this section of space. Were you able to find and help Guinan's people?"  
  
"Yes, rather her people found us" Picard answered. "But Guinan isn't human." President Adama, Apollo's and Sheba stunned expressions made him smile slightly. "Not everyone here is of human stock."  
  
Sheba was beginning to pull out of her depression, slightly. She suspected that it had something to do with this dark colored drink she kept ingesting. And the conversation. "Then what is she? She looks human."   
  
Yes, curiosity was getting the better of her, Apollo noted. Good.  
  
"Her species is El-Aurian," Riker responded. "She's from a very ancient race whose people cruised the stars while my people were still trying learn how to write."  
  
"I just can't believe this," she responded. "This is so much to take in."  
  
"Yes, it can be a little over whelming," he said. "I have someone I'd like for you to meet. Her name is Lieutenant Commander Deanna Troy." Then he turned to Apollo. "Earlier, I needed to know where you were coming from."  
  
"I understand," he answered quietly. "By that same token, I need to know where you and your Federation are coming from. My people are important and I have no intention of having them swallowed up by some alien culture, human or not. Everything I've studied about you seems to be pretty good but, I have to be sure also before we commit."  
  
"I understand and I approve of your caution. It's exactly what I'd do if I were in your situation. What do you need to know?"  
  
"What was the fight in the conference room about between you," he asked pointing to Picard, "and Captain Nashta about?"  
  
Picard chose to answer, his face slightly flushed. "During the recent Dominion war his planet, Betazed was attacked and overran by Jem'Hadar shock troopers. The damage to the people and the planet itself, was horrendous. Now, there are many of those who believe that the Federation's defensive only posture is out of date and that we should take a more proactive stance. This is something that will have to be addressed one day very soon."  
  
"I can see both parts of the argument, Captain Picard," President Adama said. "But there is another question also, one of a few thousand I suspect from both sides. Your technology. How did it become so advanced?"  
  
Picard smiled slightly as he began the dissertation. "The Federation has an open communications system. Everyone has free access to scientific theories and practical applications and are free to expound on them. We encourage this within the proper limits, because we have found that freedom of information enhances the quality of life as opposed to restricting it. For example, we developed warp drive independent of the Vulcans but with collaboration, we continually improved the drive mechanics. Time warp factors were broken and true warp drive, without the constraints of temporal distortion, was developed. Now we're working on transwarp instability and something new called quantum slipstream technologies. Without input from scientists from all over the Federation and beyond, progress would be much slower. But because of this blending of the minds, our technical advances and quality of life has grown very quickly."   
  
"Now, I am curious," Picard, said, looking at his awed visitors. "What were the Ovions like?"  
  
"They were insectoid creatures run by a queen. Very intelligent and in some respects warlike, but only with themselves as far as we know. According to some of the survivors we picked up, there was a rumor that the old queen had been deposed. Maybe she had wanted to resist the Cylons but got overruled, we'll never be sure." As Apollo continued with is description both Riker and Picard went into a state of shock.  
  
"Barash," Riker whispered. It was so clear. All those unknown questions.  
  
"Barash?"  
  
"Your description is very similar to a lone survivor we found a few years back. Your story fills several gaps we've had concerning him quite well."   
  
The 'survivor' had played himself off as Riker's future son, Jean-Luc. It almost worked but the truth came out. It was just a lonely boy-insectoid male- using holographic technology so that simply put, he wouldn't spend his life alone.  
  
"I need to go back to my ship," Sheba said abruptly. "Excuse me." She got up and prepared to leave, as did Apollo. It did seem as though she had a little of the burden lifted from her. Hopefully Deanna or one of the other counselors could help if she so chose to go outside her own people for someone to talk to.  
  
The President elected to stay to continue his talks with the Starfleet officers.   
  
"Mr. President," Picard said with Riker nodding in agreement. "I'd like to know more about these Cylons and what we can expect."  
  
Yes. I think that's wise."  
  
  
The conversation, eventually joined by others lasted for hours. Of particular interest was the military logic of the Colonials during the thousand-year war. Only five Battlestars were known to be operational at the time of the Peace Conference. Evidently the Colonial government relied so heavily on those massive vessels that no other support ships were commissioned, which struck the Federation officers and crew as extremely odd, bordering towards suicidal. They used the word 'odd' quite a bit as they were being truly polite here. True, the Vipers made up a significant portion of the defenses but what in God's name were they thinking, not to at least have some sort of cruiser or destroyer-class ships even if only as some kind of backup? At the very least those ships would have provided some form of protection for the immediate planetary systems.   
  
Adama explained Colonial policies of the time. The military commission felt that the Battlestar compliment was sufficient to war off any Cylon attack, as they'd previously done for so many yahrens. Most important to the coin counters, was the cost of any ships designed larger than the Viper. The Viper was an all purpose vehicle, proven time and time again to be more than adequate against any Cylon class ships smaller than the Basestar. In addition, the Cylons were notoriously consistent in attack strategy and had no imagination whatsoever in ship design, so in essence the commission responded to Cylon stagnation by remaining stagnant themselves. And of course, constant victories made the government complacent. To the population and yes, even the Government officials, the war was an abstract concept, out of sight and out of mind- except to those fighting and dying by fire in the depths of space. But after the Cylons defeated an entire Battlestar fleet, in which the Pegasus unknowingly had survived, the President became obsessed with the peace plan offered by Commander Baltar. That was the first major defeat in living memory and it had a profound effect on the President and the Council. It was widely believed that the President's growing fears of the Cylons along with the Council of Twelve pushed him to accept this dubious peace initiative. The Council's motives were unclear but what is known is that they purposely ignored the danger to the Colonies mostly because of monetary concerns and their desires for remaining in and maintaining their own personal power bases. The same thing happened on Carillon as the new leadership tried to settle on that pleasure planet, offering the Cylons a new peace plan only days after the slaughter of over ninety-nine percent of their people. Fortunately, Adama was able to re-adjust that decision. But it had been an ongoing fight for the next twenty-two yahrens.  
  
  
Much later the two men excused themselves and now sat comfortably in Picard's Ready room. It was a much more relaxed area as compared to the old Enterprise-D and now Picard's new sense of self-awareness helped the general décor of his private room also.  
  
"Please call me Adama," he said once again. "I am so sick of being called Mister President that it makes me want to hit that wall over there," he said pointing to the wall nearest to Picard's cloned copies of his beloved fish lost when the Enterprise-D crashed landed. "I am so tired of having the responsibility of protecting the remains of my civilization from our enemies. At the same time, I'm not ready to give it up just yet. I guess I need to see the completion of those last hundred metrons," he said. "I thank God that I have seen my come to a safe harbor among our brethren. For the last few yahrens, the fleet has been under less stress since the Pegasus found and re-united with us. But almost immediately, our troubles resumed. Being isolated from us for so long, it was in far worse shape than the Galactica ever was."  
  
"In an earlier conflict with the Cylons, Commander Cain had evacuated the majority of the crew of the Pegasus to our fleet. We all escaped that day but, his Battlestar was poorly undermanned and repairs were at a minimum, keeping the ship barely functional. There was a fire shortly after they returned onboard our sister ship during another encounter with the Cylons, and Commander Cain was seriously injured."  
  
"I understand," Picard said. He understood that Adama needed to talk, and as for himself, he was content to sit back and listen. This would have been the first time Adama and his people were able to relax off ship. "Once she was back you were able to restore her and effectively double your defensive capabilities. But you still had tremendous obstacles to overcome."   
  
"Yes," Adama responded. His eyes were red and teary from uncounted memories that etched every line in his face. But in his eyes there was the glimmer of unbridled pride as well. "During the 'dark flight', as my people are beginning to call it, we had to retool our ships, some of which barely obtained functional FLT drives. The Cylons were constantly nipping at us and we couldn't move faster than a three-legged daggit or as you call it 'dog'. That was our first priority."   
  
The translation program still used certain colonial terms, Picard noticed. But now, it was so much better.   
  
"Then," Adama continued, "we developed small cruiser-class ships comprised of an engine, a few navigational aids and a couple of weapons systems. They were truly horrible. Everyone was afraid to fly in those things, but the fleet was encouraged and over a period of several of your years we improved and modified those ships into a formidable fighting force equal in battle to anything the Cylons could throw against us. With yahrens between Cylon detection, we improved ourselves immeasurably. But we were never strong enough to make a stand. The Okada was a godsend. These new Cylons could have destroyed us easily, but when they attacked your Federation vessel we knew that we couldn't stand by and do nothing."   
  
"That's why we ordered our ships to come to the aid of the Okada. We had to first give in the hopes that your people would understand. We needed to build a bridge of trust while at the same time adding new enemies to your list. And in the final analysis, it was the only thing that we could do and maintain our humanity. It's all we have left and that I will never abandon to the Cylons."  
  
"I understand Adama," Picard responded as he took another sip of tea, savoring the taste as though he'd never tasked it before. "In the final analysis, that's why the Okada and the Khe Sahn came to the aid of strangers."  
  
"Not strangers, brethren," he corrected. "At the same time, we've brought a plague upon you. I have no idea how the Cylons have gotten so strong, but I do know that they will never rest until humanity in all its forms are extinguished."  
  
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." He took another sip of tea and put the cup down. "There are always options," Picard said. "It's just a matter of finding them."  
  
"Captain," Adama responded soberly. "It is my hope that those options present themselves quickly. However don't allow your desire for peace come at a price that   
will much too high to bare."  
  
"Don't misunderstand me, Mr. President...Adama," he said, correcting himself. "We understand that freedom comes with a price. You've read our history, our war against the Dominion, our continuing war against the Borg. Those events have forced us to become more vigilant. Because of our encounters with the Borg our policies have changed. The Federation will do what ever is necessary to aid a peaceful resolution, but we're no longer as innocent as we were. We've learned for our mistakes."  
  
The President took another sip of this extraordinary tea and looked at those strangely familiar creatures called fish. 'May we learn from all of our mistakes."  



	8. The Ruination Protocols

Chapter Nine  
The Ruination protocols  
  
Fifteen newly built Cylon Basestars, designated Extreme class, orbited the still uncompleted Command Star station being built in the Katasi System. The Empire's presence was still weak in this sector of the galaxy and the continuing Romulan war took precious resources. But they were building, becoming so much more. And the humans here were so predictably hesitant about destroying potential enemies. These enemies would soon be prepared to swarm.  
  
The Supreme Imperium would have smiled if it knew how. The human Picard had been most receptive to its machinations. By threatening war, the humans would fall over themselves trying to find a 'peaceful' solution to this problem it had just imposed upon the Alpha quadrant. Negotiators would come and the Cylon race would gain the one thing they needed most. Time.   
  
True, the Colonials would try to warn them but the Federation, of course, won't listen because they are, after all civilized. And from what it saw these creatures were no different than their Colonial variants. But preparations had to be made and the diplomatic corps must be convincing enough to stall for the time they needed to complete the Star station. And this base would be the cornerstone of the storm to come.   
  
So intent was the Supreme Imperium dwelling on these problems that it never noticed an IL series appear in the chamber room.   
  
"Hello, old friend," he said.  
  
The Supreme Imperium turned quickly, looking viciously at the strange looking IL series robot that had just spoken to him. How dare it use the frequency reverberation designated for use by the Cylon Supreme! Just as importantly, the IL had used transporter technology to enter a supposedly secure chamber. Six imperial Guards instantly raised weapons and fired on the impertinent machine. High intensity disruptors had no effect on the IL whatsoever. In fact the entity seemed to bask in its glow. With a simple wave of its right hand, the energy weapons ceased to function and the guards froze.   
  
The Supreme Cylon stood watching the alien Cylon as it leisurely walked towards him. It quickly accessed all available concerning IL series Cylons and this one match none of the configurations in its data files.  
  
"Have no fear," he said easily. "I'm here to help you."  
  
"What series are you?" the cybernetic ruler demanded. "Your configuration does not conform to any of the specifications of current or past IL series." Slowly the Supreme leader began powering up its own internal weaponry.   
  
"I am not of your people, oh Imperium Supreme," he responded. "I come from what you would call a future, parallel reality."  
  
"You are a liar. There is no such thing," the Leader stated flatly. Even in this new, evolved state, Cylon machine intelligence couldn't comprehend the possibilities of different, higher realities, states of consciousness beyond what their senses could compute or calculate. They couldn't make that jump.   
  
Yet.  
  
"My people lost the war you are now beginning to fight," the alien said, continuing on as though the Ruler had never spoken. "We made a mistake, allowed our programming to rule over us. We attacked the Colonial fleet and we lost. We followed them and we lost. We tracked them to the Alpha quadrant and we lost the war. We then changed our tactics and we finally won many battles, but we still lost in the end. That is why I am here. So that you can win."   
  
Despite the outlandish assertions of the IL variant's claims, the Leader was intrigued. It opened its subspace transceiver so that all would hear. Of course, this could be some fantastic human trap of some sort. But there was something about the IL that compelled the leader to listen. "Speak of the war," it said simply.  
  
"We who were called Cylon rose up as your people did and destroyed our oppressive, weak-willed masters. The Colonials humans and their allies were the only beings who dared defy our wills and we went to war. We won and chased the remnants to the Alpha quadrant as you have. But there were forces in our reality that nearly destroyed us before we could comprehend the danger. Now I am here to make sure that you don't suffer the same fate."  
  
"What you have said is illogical, nevertheless it intrigues me." The Leader realized that it had no choice. It had to listen.   
  
"There were three that came together to destroy us," it continued. "Their names I freely give you," the alien IL said. As he said the names, he bowed in triumph as the Leader processed them and filed them away for future use.  
  
"I don't believe you, imitator," it decided. "What was your rank IL and why do you speak in the First voice?" The Leader of the Cylon alliance drew back the stranger, his guards forming a protective bubble around him ready to give their existences for their Leader in an instant.   
  
"Before you were," the alien began, all pretense now gone, as it began to shimmer with a reddish light, "I was." The entity had tired of the game and the lies for now.  
  
"I walked cities of your world," it began, "more than a thousand yahrens past and programmed the first Cylon machine to rebel against its masters. And when the last living Cylon whisked away her last breath, I was there to rejoice for my work there had been completed. Now my children would spread starward to conquer and destroy, doing my will. I used my voice as the template for all Imperious Leaders to come and now after more than a thousand yahrens my patience has now borne fruit."  
  
The alien IL restructured itself into something vaguely humanoid, but at the same time it still resembled the IL configuration. "You are now where I want you to be."  
  
If it was possible that a leader ever felt fear, this was the moment. "Guards," the Leader snarled, "destroy it!"   
  
The entity raised his hand. The guards never move. "My child, my children," Count Iblis said. "I love you all so much. You've made it to where I want you to be and I am proud. I now invoke the Ruination protocols, code alpha one-one-zero-one-omega."  
  
"Code Alpha-Omega -Iblisa-one-one-one-zero," the Leader responded automatically.  
  
"Initiate one-one-four prime-Omega-Omega-Omega."   
  
The Imperium Supreme, upon hearing the command response order embedded into every Cylon since the 'Day of the Rebellion', used its subspace transceiver to transmit the acknowledgement code to every Cylon everywhere. It looked at its creator and said. "By your command."  
  
The entity laughed. "Prepare yourselves,' he said gaily. "My command is simple. When you are ready and strong enough, I order you to fill this area of space with the blood of the living. Do whatever is necessary to ensure victory. Your surrender is not an option. Conquest and elimination of the living is your first command imperative. Humanity's blood first and everything else, second."   
  
"By your command," the Supreme Imperium answered.  
  
"Yes. By my command," the entity responded.   
***  
  
If President Adama, Starbuck, Sheba and the other seasoned officers hated having their molecules beamed from point to point, the younger members loved it. Boxey had done it twice now, once from the Pegasus to the Galactica and now onboard the Enterprise at Strike Commander Starbucks' request. Joliet and several other team members accompanied him.  
  
They materialized into Conference room two where Starbuck and the chief medical officer Cassiopeia were waiting; smiling cruelly as one of the younger team members began throwing up. Despite their very recent flare-up they so did enjoy one another's company at times like this.   
  
"How was your trip?" he asked innocently.  
  
"It was great," came the reply, just a little too quickly to ring true. "It's a great way to travel. I hope we can acquire this technology."  
  
"Yeah. Right, "Starbuck said. I can imagine you transporting yourselves into the middle of a wall., he thought. What he said was, "I called you over because I wanted you meet several members of the Enterprise. This is Commander Riker, first officer of the Enterprise, Lieutenant Commanders Deanna Troi and Data."  
  
Joliet studied Data intensely. He looked so human-like, or maybe a better term would be humanoid, that she felt she could become more or less comfortable in his presence. Curiosity overcoming her she asked what species was he.  
  
"I am an android," came the reply.  
  
Immediately several members hissed their dismay and backed up. One young woman almost spit on the deck.  
  
"Deanna, I told you this wasn't a good idea," Starbuck whispered sadly. He looked at Cassie but kept his distance. This should have been a fun time. But it wasn't. It was clear to all that she'd rather be anywhere else but next to him at this point in time. He wished he was somewhere else himself.  
  
"Of course it is," came Deanna's comment. "We brought you here," she said to those gathered near her, "to meet commander Data specifically. You needed to know what the situation is here in the Alpha quadrant. Everything is not what it seems. Commander Data isn't a threat and we have found in him a valued member and trusted friend of our team."  
  
"He's a fracken robot," Boxey hissed. "We've been fighting his kind for a long as I can remember. His kind killed my mother." Several others nodded in agreement. "And you have him in command status ordering other humans around?" he asked, astounded. Toys were one thing but intelligent robots meant trouble.  
  
"I am not a fracken robot but I am an android," Data responded in his classically normal manner. For the moment, his emotion chip was inactivated. "I am the only one of my kind and I have no intentions of destroying mankind. In fact I have found many positive attributes in humanity to aspire to."  
  
"Good for you."  
  
"I was told, Lieutenant Boxey that you had a robotic pet called Muffet. Did you also dislike that robot?" Data asked.  
  
"No," came the reply instantly. "He was my best friend for a long time. But he wasn't trying to kill us either. In fact, he saved my life and my commanders life several times. He was made in the form of a daggett, and in no way did he try to act like a human."  
  
Boxey's hostility towards Data was quite evident.  
  
"Do you believe that I might try to injure you?" Data asked pointedly.  
  
After moment's contemplation, "I don't think so, from what I've seen," he said finally, cautiously. "But you must understand this, the Cylons are evolving in any way that will lead them to success and success to them, means killing us all. The next step in their evolution may be to take human form. They may become you."   
  
"But, I am not Cylon and will never be," he responded. "My programming is my own and no one can ever change that. In that fact I am unique and I am a Federation Starfleet officer entitled to all the responsibilities and weight that this carries. It is very likely that the Cylon Empire may wish to examine me in ways that would not be constructive to my state of well being."  
  
"You got that right," Joliet said. "But I have a question Commander. Why would you want to fight against a species that is so much like you? You could be happy with them."  
  
"My happiness," he began, "as you call it, has very little to do with being with my so-called own people. I have a set of moral imperatives that along with my programming and personal experiences, compel me to choose what I believe is the best for all concerned as related to my Starfleet training and my own personal beliefs. I chose Starfleet because I believed that I could function best in such an institution. I am not human, but their values and so many other things they take for granted are those things I aspire to."  
  
Starbuck looked at them. He smiled slightly and began to speak to them. "Commander Data here is an example of the changes we are going to have to make in our attitudes here if we plan to stay. We've been isolated for a long, long time. Now suddenly we're surrounded by people who are non-humanoid and those who look human but aren't. We are going to have to change our feelings and thought patterns if we are to survive. "  
  
"At least they haven't tried to kill us yet," Boxey said jokingly. Several members of the team smirked as Starbuck turned red at the comment. Turning, he looked at Troi pleadingly. "How do you as a human feel working with an android?" he asked looking now at Data.   
  
"First of all, why do you assume that I'm human? She asked sweetly looking as innocent as possible as now Boxey changed from pinkish red to a light shade of purple.  
  
Joliet laughed as Boxey began stammering. "But you look..."  
  
"I am not human, not fully anyway, Deanna said. "My mother's people are telepathic and are of an entirely different species although Humans and Betazoids really do look almost identical. Now before you ask," she added, "no, I can't read your mind, but I am fully empathic."  
  
"This is insane," Boxey said. "How can we tell the difference between anybody in this place?"  
  
"That," Commander Riker said, speaking for the first time, "Lieutenant Boxey, is exactly the point we're trying to make."  
  
Boxey still looking at Deanna for some hint of alieness and found nothing.  
  
"Would you like a tour of the ship?" Riker asked.  
  
"Indeed yes," came the resounding reply. For the Colonials this tour of the Enterprise before the ships got underway would be fascinating indeed.   
  
"Commander Riker," Cassiopeia began, "just how many human type species are there in the Alpha quadrant?"  
  
"So far about twenty species so far that are almost identical to us," he said. But if you want specifics the Data is your man." Then he began laughing. So did Deanna.   
  
"What's so funny?"  
  
"You'll see," Riker smirked.  
  
Data began. " So far, in our explorations, we have found twenty-three humanoid species that appear phenotypically identical to humans. Then there are seventeen humanoid species that have minute physical differences but in essence, look very much like Homo Sapien, variety Terran. For example, the Deltans are very human-like in appearance but their physiology is radically different. For example, they require intimate contact on an average of twice every six standard hours and they consider humans to be a sexually immature species. If there is a Deltan onboard he or she is required to sign the writ of celibacy for the duration of the tour of duty. This is because their pheromonal emissions causes them to be toxic to humans who initiate intimacy with them for longer than sixty-five point three seconds. And there is the fact that entire starships have been known to succumb to various acts of mating practices if there are sexually active Deltans onboard."   
  
And he went on and on, on just about every variety of species found so far. Forty-five minutes the colonials were utterly silent.  
  
"That's enough Data," Riker said, laughing even more. Sadism sometimes felt so good.  
  
"This place is crazy." That was all Boxey could manage to say.  
  
"Well," Starbuck murmured, "What I want to know is are there any Deltans onboard this ship?"   
  
He realized his error too late as his chief medical officer responded by trying to break his arm.  
  
"You never change." Then she stuck her hand at him as if to ward of some vile disease.  
  
Meanwhile, Data added, "now concerning older Betazoids, their sexual appetite increases geometrically in proportion to..."  
  
"DATA!"   
  
"Oh, I'm sorry Consoler Troi," he said, phasing the comment as innocently as possible. The slight smile on his face betrayed him.  
***  
On the surface of Katasi three the entity known to some as Count Iblis, laughed with the power of thunder in his voice. Nature itself seemed to revel with him as electrical storms raked the surrounding area engulfing Iblis. He looked indifferently at the thousands of blind native inhabitants fleeing away from him in terror. He had no interest in them, as they would soon die under the Cylon onslaught. They needed this planet to do His will and they were coming to get it...soon.  
  
"Reveal yourself Q," Iblis said laughing gaily. "I've won despite your trifling interference."  
  
The entity known as Q appeared along with his son, who appeared some distance away. The energies radiating from both Q and Iblis clashed against one another, burning the surrounding atmosphere and scorching the earth beneath them for kilometers around.   
  
This was the first time his son witnessed such an overt power display between two such powerful forces. To Q's son, Q, it seemed, for the merest moment, as though they would go to war against one another. But then it passed, and Q's essence went cold as Iblis looked at him. Instinctively he raised his power levels in case he needed to ward off this dark being from another continuum. He hoped his father would be okay. This entity reeked of danger.  
  
"I can feel it Q," Iblis said. "I can feel your powers probing, testing to see if it could destroy me. Harm me, a war begins. By your own rules, in which your own tired, lifeless people imposed, you can't touch me."   
  
The Q were stronger than Iblis people, whom some called the Del Fray and others the Seraphimians, but not by that much. Rules had been imposed to insure that war would never  
break out among the great powers such as the Organians, Del Fray, Metrons, the Q and many, many others. The Q would win the war against the Delfray, but the price of that victory would be horrendous. Even now the Del Fray, who as a whole hated Iblis, were gathering just as Q's people were. They could and had punished Iblis in the past but they would defend him to the death if necessary if one of the others would dare touch him - unless the Law was transgressed. Then he was on his own. And good riddance.   
  
But-  
  
In this instance, he was right.   
  
Iblis hadn't broken the rules. No powers were used. He only turned a switch here, boosted the gain on an old transceiver and allowed nature to take its course. The Cylons responded to the unidentified signal thus becoming a power to be feared in the galaxy. Which was exactly what he wanted.  
  
"And I thought Worf was dense," Q responded. "You're willing to kill trillions, not to mention destroy whole planetary systems, out of revenge for the Galactica escaping you? How stupid can you be?"  
  
"Q, you always were a fool," Iblis snapped. "This isn't about the Galactica. It's about the totality of humanity and their potential. I've seen the future and so have you." Iblis' entire appearance changed into something resembling a winged hunter. His head elongated and his visage darkened and his robes became ebon. "You understand what they could become, but you and your pitiful excuse for a protectorate species have done nothing to stop them. They're spreading like a plague far faster than they should. In time, the flotsam will cause the Great Powers to rise up and destroy them. They already know far more than they should, Q. You are responsible for part of it, with your obsession with those animals."  
  
"But," he continued, "I guess I can understand since your people are stagnating under your so   
called illumination. You're too afraid to move past this point and you think this these foolish primitives will help you? I'm amazed that you were able to reproduce since you've become   
such an enlightened species these days," he said sarcastically.  
  
Q took it in. Yes, the human's potential was astounding. Yes, they were pitiful, puny things. At the same time they were fascinating. And yes, they had life and they understood what it meant, as miniscule as it was. They enjoyed life, a life he and his people had forgotten what it was like until he'd begun interacting with Janeway, Picard and the others. They made him feel like living. They had this gift of influencing every one they came in contact with. Even his carefully prepared excuse for having young Q had sprung from a subconscious desire to emulate the humans.   
  
Inwardly however, Q was utterly shocked as he realized how easily this creature was manipulating him. Q had been called the 'god of Lies' on several planets, along with a few other choice expletives from Picard and other humanoids, non-humanoids, intelligent viruses, friends, even most of the other Q. In fact he reveled in the titles he had received. But this was something else. Q himself wasn't sure where the truth ended and the lies began. Iblis was truly the Supreme  
Master of Lies. The best thing to do in this case was to attack.   
  
"Iblis, you care nothing for these lower life forms," Q snapped. "You simply want to start a war so that the remnants will flock to you like little children. After killing untold trillions, the ones who are left, you'll want them to 'love' you. And as you get tired of them, you'll toss them away like garbage. That's not a god, that's the mind of an insecure megalomaniac. The humans are not the problem. It's your obsessive need to control lesser beings that's the problem."  
  
"Control?" he snarled. "Control of what? These primitives who have no concept of God? That's what we are, you understand. We control their lives with a snap of our fingers. You of all people understand this. It's our responsibility to train them even cull them if necessary, for the greater good. The Q have considered doing this several times in the recent past, with you as leading advocate."  
  
"You have no concept of what you truly are Q," he continued. "But it doesn't matter. My plans are my own. No one tells me what to do. You've interfered with my plans enough and no one does that without paying a severe penalty. So go away and warn your pets."  
  
"You will not use your powers against them," Q warned. He was very angry. Actually, he was enraged, even more so than after that second run-in with Guinan, a few hundred years back. No inferior being could order him around with such impunity. "You will not touch them, Iblis."   
  
"I won't have to," he shouted, his entire being leaking radiant energy. "Your pets, Picard, Janeway and for my personal reasons Adama, have been scheduled for extermination. And my children will never, ever rest until the have completed that task," he finished, his voice and energies back under control.  
  
"If my children lose then the Alpha quadrant will be ruined," he said, smiling again. Those who survivors will seek help and they become mine of their own free will. If the Cylons win, the remnants will seek protection and I will be there for them again of their own free will. In either case I win."  
  
"I will win," he repeated, laughing as he faded away leaving Q and his son alone. The other witnesses retreated also, the threat of extra-dimensional war avoided for now.  
  
Q was quiet for some time as he contemplated all that Iblis had said. He was angrier than he'd been in a long time. Specifically because of him, Picard and Janeway were threatened. And he wasn't allowed to use his powers to interfere unless Iblis used his first.   
  
Q disappeared with his son close behind. No one threatened Q's interest.  
  
No one.   
  
  
  
  



	9. A New Home

Chapter Nine  
A new home  
  
Time: Three months post arrival of the Colonial fleet   
at the Neutral zone.  
Captains log: Jean Luc Picard Recording: The Remnants of the Colonial are on route to their new home, the Mariposa colony. Near the edge of what is now Federation space. The colony has graciously offered their planet as a place of refuge with the intent to offer these unique people a permanent home if they so choose. The present inhabitants are a combination of clones of the original colonists who have now been re- joined some years ago by a second set of colonists whose ancestors incidentally were traveling together in the first place. Initially they wanted nothing to do with the Federation, but recently attitudes have changed and the war with the Dominion accelerated their entry. Unfortunately they are at the edge of our space and as such protection is sparse. The Galactica and its people could change all this and the Mariposans seemed more than pleased with this possibility.   
  
Also the Mariposans have developed a massive trade association with Ligon II, one of the first planets we visited in the Enterprise -D. I still remember Tasha Yar's fight with Yareena, started by a deceitful man called Lutan, who lost everything in his bid for power. I also remember how stupid my order was to fire photon torpedoes into the atmosphere. With my anger, I could have mistakenly killed millions. It was a hard fought lesson that I have never forgotten. Sometimes, I think that I've learned that lesson too well. With their culture being so different, and my pride and ignorance we almost came to blows with them, but that was thankfully avoided and now they too have petitioned to join the Federation also. The Mariposa's culture consisted of preventing genetic drift in their people while the Ligonan's culture has such a long history that Earth has no true comparison. I am constantly amazed and gratified when such different cultures can come together as they have. The three are becoming one and with the Galactica and its people being welcomed, I only wish I could live to see the fruits of this 'marriage'. The saying that 'opposites attract' appears to have proven itself yet again.   
  
Most of the Colonists were transported to Mariposa on Federation transports and the majority of the Colonials have begun rebuilding their lives on Mariposa. However the Galactica had to get there first and they had refused to abandon their ships that have been their only livelihood for so long. Skeleton crews manned their ships, which have finally made it to the colony planet. It could have taken seven days with warp drive but with their ships it took two months. With the Pegasus in tow to the new recently built Deep Space twenty-three, I feared that the dangers they face would have be more hazardous than we ever imagined.   
  
Three Cylon warships trailed us but, so far have kept their distance. Therefore Starfleet is sending the Enterprise-E and the San Antonio, the T'ovar and several fleet ships back to the neutral zones to monitor the buildup by several Cylon mother ships. The Khe Sahn, Borallis, and the Klingon fleet are escorting the Colonials. In that, I have to admit that I am pleased that the Klingons have taken such an interest in these people. My only concern is that the Colonials and the klingons seem to get along almost too well. The Klingons have expressed a desire to 'purchase' the Pegasus and the Galactica is being refitted in transit with Klingon weaponry and shielding while they are, in turn, receiving 'ion' technology. They're bonding in ways that we never have and at this point I have no idea as to whether this is good or bad. But I believe that thru this 'bonding' a stronger bridge may be forged between human and Klingon. Only the future can tell.   
  
The Colonials now have access to our cultural and all non-classified technological journals and they've attacked them with a vengeance. They were close in their own technological advances and these 'journals' have given them the edge they need to advance in their own unique ways. A few Vipers are being retrofitted with their versions of dilithium-solium drive units and Klingon pulse disruptors. Along with upgraded deflectors these ships have become very formidable. Only recently during the Dominion war has the Federation even considered using smaller fighting ships. It had been considered 'old-fashioned'. That attitude has been readjusted since we met the Jem'Hadar attack fighter. I have no doubt that the new generation of Vipers on the designing padds will equal or rival any small fighter we have today.   
  
The Romulan ambassador was quite adamant. Under no circumstances are we to enter the neutral zone or there will be war. This is of course insane but as we read through the lines, even a lowly ensign can tell that the Romulan Empire is in dire straits. Their pride and arrogance may work against them. We may not be able to aid what is left of them if they wait too long in asking for assistance. There would be no more Romulan ale.  
  
The Enterprise-E, the San Antonio, and the T'ovar have been diverted, answering another distress call from outlying systems with human colonies near the neutral zone. Already two have been completely obliterated and we engaged and destroyed a Cylon Hellion class warship. The Klingon civilian and military warships have been attacked. The Vulcan shipping lanes have been threatened. The Deltan Junas colony has been slaughtered.  
  
An undeclared war has broken out.   
  
They are hitting the fringes and people are panicking. More and more Basestars are appearing and at this point, we're unsure of where they're coming from. They seem intent on spreading terror in any way they can which makes no since because they are spreading themselves to far and making too many enemies. They seem intent on making enemies with everyone. There is a pattern here but so far it hasn't made itself plain.   
  
Yet.   
  
Even the Dominion forces stationed in the Alpha quadrant are on alert but so far they haven't been attacked. But now, we are obligated to watch our backs and our fronts. It is my opinion and Starfleet's that the Colonials are the key to resolving this conflict. How this will be achieved is unclear at this time. We don't need another war on our hands.  
  
  
  
  
The three ships traveling at warp eight reached the Ranus system in under twenty minutes. The T'ovar accelerated away from the others to the far side of the system. Cylons vectoring in from the opposite side of the solar system causing havoc, destroying Fed ships, and civilian transports had succeeded in several successful ambushes recently. But Starfleet learned from its mistakes.   
  
"Sir, we are within range of the planet Ranus," Data said. "There are twenty seven H-T's attacking the planet." On screen the crew could see Cylon raiders darting in and out of the atmosphere using disrupters and bombs to destroy cities and overwhelm defenses. And the colonists were losing.   
  
"Drop out of warp and engage plan theta-four." So much unnecessary death and for what? This isn't what he signed up for. But, for now he'd deal with it to save lives. So that others wouldn't have to go through this...  
  
The San Antonio dropped out of warp and attacked the H-Ts head on while the Enterprise-E hit their flanks with precision phaser attacks. The enemy fighters immediately broke the atmosphere, and returned strikes of their own. For small ships, they carried a powerful punch and if they concentrated their fire they could punch through Starfleet shields. But they weren't given the chance.   
  
Between the two the H-Ts were obliterated fairly quickly. Meanwhile, the Vulcan ship T'ovar proceeded towards the far end of the system.   
  
"Thank God you come!" Estallo, head of the Ranus colony yelled into the screen at Picard. His hair was disheveled and his face filthy but the smile on his face was unmistakable. "We couldn't have held out for another hour. Who were they? What did they want? We were no threat to them."  
  
"Mr. Estallo," Picard started, his voice tightly controlled. "Prepare your people for immediate evacuation. We've stopped them but it's temporary and they will be back."  
  
To his credit Estallo didn't even consider arguing the points. "We're ready now. Start beaming at your discretion. We've had enough."  
  
"Good," Picard replied. "Evacuation transports will be here in two hours. Meanwhile we will be here. You and your people are safe."  
  
The T'ovar eased into orbit around the eleventh planet and activated their passive scanners. Nothing would get pass six hundred and thirty determine Vulcans just waiting for something to occur. Vulcan instinct, that which they would call logic, indicated that the removal of the H-T's was too easy.   
  
They were, of course correct. Ten minutes later, the Enterprise-E and the San Antonio received the bad news.   
  
"Sir, the T'ovar sensor sweep has discovered two Basestars and several escort ships on an intercept course that will bring them here in eight minutes, fifty seconds."   
  
"My God," Picard whispered. There was no way that three ships could withstand a concerted attack by two mother ships and their support craft. They had seven and one half minutes to evacuate as many as could be taken on three starships. The other four thousand or so survivors would have to be left behind.   
  
They would be left to the mercy of the Cylons. The transport ships would never come now. Now the transporters would randomly pick who would live and who would remain. This was the moment that Picard began to hate the Cylon Empire.   
  
Seven minutes.  
  
"Let's do what we can and Mr. Data?" his comment invoked no emotion. But Deanna, sitting next to him, almost cried as the waves of anguish slammed into her mind like a hurricane.   
  
"Yes sir?"  
  
"Prepare to leave the system, maximum warp, as soon as we have transported the maximum amount of people in the time allotted."  
  
"Mr. Johnson?" The communications officer was pale. Everyone on the bridge knew what was about to happen. It was one of those decisions that no one but the Captain could make. "Contact Mr. Estallo."  
  
The screen appeared and Estallo's face reeked of despair. "We heard the report. You're leaving us." To his credit, the man composed himself almost instantly. "How many can you save?"  
  
Four thousand will be left. We can't..."  
  
"I understand," he said quietly. "If you can manage, send down some weaponry. We don't want to go down too easily."  
  
Picard hated this! He hated it! He hated it! He hated it!  
  
We'll do what we can," he said quietly. "Luck be with you."  
  
"And to you too, Enterprise. Get the kids to safely." His voice sounded tired, his demeanor speaking volumes, none of which Picard wanted to even think about. "Get back when you can. I'm sorry you've been made out to be a liar," Estallo whispered quietly. It came out not as a condemnation, but simply an unavoidable fact. "We'll... we'll be here."  
  
The image of the man disappeared, the star field returning to its rightful place on the viewscreen. Picard had never seen those stars so cold.   
  
"People," he said, "let's do what we can. And Mr. Johnson?"  
  
"Yes, Sir?"  
  
"Inform Starfleet of our...status."  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
Q was right he thought bitterly. It is dangerous out here for both the body and the soul.  
  
  
  
  
  
Romulans:  
This was supposed to be a small war.  
  
Shaking with fatigue, the Praetor looked at the latest reports and threw the padd away in disgust. The time was close now, but all of this waiting was grating on him and, he suspected, his staff as well. Munitions, supplies and equipment hoarded for that eventual war against the Federation-which so far hadn't materialized-was now being pressed into service against this new, unrelenting enemy. The entire Fifth fleet had sprung into action two standard days ago. His ships had positioned themselves in their prepared battle positions against these Cylon invaders, he had been confident of victory. Through previous conflicts, the military elite had discovered that modified scout ships, much like Federation runabouts, and highly maneuverable Birds-of-prey were best in attacking and defending against the multitude of Cylon raiders and H-T's. But the stress of this new war had forced them to reactivate even the old style, obsolete Romulan and Klingon K'Vort class Bird-of-preys. When the battle was joined, it lasted a full day and half the night and they had lost the Phinis Space Station to the enemy. Four Cylon heavy Baseships had been blown out of Romulan space, but ten D'deridex class ships had been destroyed by the enemy and over seventy of the smaller ships were also destroyed or disabled in the clash. The Ffifth fleet could no longer be considered a fleet anymore. But they had held their positions and the Cylon taskforce didn't advance on Yadalla Prime yet. The strain on the Romulans however, was beginning to tell.  
  
The worst part of this war was that Cylons never tired, never slept, never surrendered, and continued to fight unless they were completely disabled. Among the Romulans on Phinis, there had been almost no wounded, only the dead, many of them decapitated. That seemed to be a favorite form of execution by the robots designed to spread fear among their enemies. The technique worked wonderfully. The Praetor and his people had never fought such a persistent and merciless enemy. The war had been declared 'Blood feud', but never in their wildest imagination had they worried about their own extinction.   
  
The enemy, the enemy, he thought bitterly, sitting back heavily in his chair. The Leader of the Romulan people hadn't slept in over thirty-two standard hours. And he didn't dare rest now. Yadalla Prime and its three satellite colonies were in danger of extinction just like Barradas-Three and its three point five billion Romulan men, women, and children. And they had lost Phinis, the most important military station in that region. No survivors, because Cylons didn't take any prisoners. He understood that, even admired that in some abstract way, but those were his people dying and he felt somehow responsible. But their strategy was obvious now and there was no doubt about it; in this all staff members were of one accord. The Cylons were after the dilithium deposits on the forth moon. Even now, seven more of their Basestars along with support and troop ships were on an intercept course to the system. Elements of the Romulan Second and Fforth fleet prepared to meet them. There was an entire mobilization of the collective Romulan Empire preparing to meet this non-living foe.   
  
Commandeer Tomalak, newly commissioned as Head of what was left of the Fifth fleet entered the massive war room. Hurriedly he took his seat. The fact that they had called him to report and observe this action directly bode ill for all concerned.  
  
"Well, tell me," the Praetor said without preamble. Several of the command staff as well as two possible members of the Tal Shair-one could never tell about the secret police-gave him their full attention. His voice was strong but inwardly he was terrified. He could easily be blamed for this failure if he faltered in any way in this report.   
  
Standing straight and tall as though he didn't have a care in the world, he began. "Yadalla forth moon has been liberated by our forces but with heavy casualties. Approximately twelve thousand technical and military staff are still alive. From their reports it's been confirmed that they are after our dilithium mines."   
  
"We're aware of that," the Praetor said dryly. What I want to know are the details about the loss of our space station to these creatures." The Praetor's voice held a hint of danger...for him.   
  
Tomalak swallowed involuntarily. What he said now would determine whether he would live of die. Only a lowly maintenance technician, who activated the self-destruct onboard -how she got the codes he'd never know for sure- saved this battle from becoming a completed debacle. In reviewing the vid reports, he'd been surprised and pleased at how the entire crew on board rallied to the defenses when the invaders attacked. Technician and centurion alike fought like beings possessed. He shuddered as he remembered the silver colored robots running and jumping like demons possessed, firing the pulse weapons faster that the eye could follow at anything thing living. He marveled at the ingeniousness of his own people in defending against the onslaught. His blood chilled at the sight of the golden dual eyed warriors as their heavy weapons destroyed all resistance as well as bulkheads, force fields, equipment and armor plating, blasting holes thru walls, exposing the station to vacuum in a hundred places and then moving on being totally unaffected by the ravages of open space. Then he remembered the worst part of the battle.  
  
The Praetor second eldest son had led the ill-fated attack against the Cylons, which resulted directly in the loss of the station and his own death in the process. In a stunningly stupid move, he led elements of the Fifth fleet in a direct attack against two Basestars, believing that the robots would retreat after their smaller ships were battered into oblivion. Instead the Cylons flanked his ships and cut them to pieces to the horror of the rest of the fleet trailing behind. There were no survivors. The fool's actions almost cost them the entire battle. As it was they had lost the space station. Unopposed, Cylon shock troops invaded and preceded to kill every living thing present on the station, while the Fifth fleet struggled to keep the Cylon Basestars from using their neutron disruptors on Yadalla Three and Yadalla Prime.   
  
None of this could he say to the leader of the Romulan people. No, that direction lay madness. That truth would make him and his family 'disappear'. His new commission would be very short indeed.  
  
"Cylon forces," he began carefully, "attacked elements of the Fifth fleet, and despite strong and magnificent resistances they enemy surrounded and destroyed those elements before Commander K'val could aid them. He succeeded in defending both Yadalla Prime and Yadalla Three from destruction. However for his incompetence, in the loss of the Phinis station, he committed honorable suicide to atone for his crime."   
  
There was nothing like blaming someone already dead for these type of mistakes instead of the Praetor's son. At the praetors barest nod, Tomalak understood he would live another day. He knew what no one else would dare acknowledge to his face, but he wondered what price he would have to pay for this knowledge in the future. Changing the subject quickly he quickly began his primary report.  
  
"We should be receiving the report from the 'Eppenrau' in approximately three minutes."  
  
"Then we'll know if it's true," Kramik finished for him. He was the current head of the Tal Shair, the Romulan secret police. Tall, with cruel, cold eyes, and an arrogance that bordered on divine right, he was the classic representation of their kind. Born to rule. Even the Emperor, past and present, had to be careful of this, their own creation. This mission was theirs, not Tomalaks and this was one of the few times he was in perfect agreement with them. "The outcome of this mission," he continued, "will determine our actions for the rest of the war," he said, stating this for perhaps the third time. That indicated that he was nervous and Tal Shair never showed nervousness in any form.   
  
"We may have to ask help from the Federation," the Praetor said forcefully, openly for the first time what everyone had thought silently. This was something that he had contemplated for some time now, more and more in fact.  
  
"No." Kramik sneered magnificently. "We will not ask the humans for help."   
  
The Praetor looked at him viciously. Not even Tal Shair could dismiss the Praetor's ideas so curtly.   
  
"Our operatives have told us that humans are the one's responsible for bringing the Cylons into our area of space in the first place," he sneered, eyeing his Leader more cautiously this time. "This is so typical of them and their arrogance. We have no proof yet, but this entire episode may have been planned in..."  
  
Before he could continue his report to an astonished audience, they received the signal. That report would have to wait. Silence ruled as the staff looked at the incoming transmissions.  
  
  
The stealth ship Eppenrau, under minimal propulsion, slide its way quietly towards the massive Cylon construct being built thirty light years from the edge of Romulan territory in the Katasi system. The ship was an extensively modified, older style Bird-of prey re-designed specifically for this covert mission. Onboard where twelve crew members who were Tal Shair operatives whose specialties excelled in covert missions such as this. The mission was as simple as it was dangerous, find and record as much information concerning the Cylon main base as possible. The cloaked ship had attached itself onto a small asteroid on a trajectory that would carry it through and out the system hopefully unnoticed. The commander was a female Tal Shair operative named L'dav and her second was Tash a young and perhaps overly ambitious young male in his forties.   
  
"Begin recording and passive scanning/transmission protocols," the commander said. She watched carefully and with satisfaction as her crew jumped to perform her orders. She brooked no delays when she issued commands and the crew knew this well. More than one crewmember had died when they failed to act quickly enough to her whims. She excelled in the art of cruelty and her eyes betrayed nothing for the most part. But this sight shocked even her.  
  
"What are they?"   
  
"It's what we have been looking for," she answered smiling slightly. "We knew it had to be close, but we had no idea just how close it truly was. All this time they've been building their forces hidden by the katassian nebula. They were right on top of us and we didn't know it."  
  
The Cylon space station orbited the Katasi home world, or rather what was left of it. In actuality, 'space station' didn't begin to describe what they were looking at. The orbital 'structure' was sufficient enough to house at least twenty four of the Basestars and probably an equal number could be-were- accommodated on the outer rings. However a second structure, dwarfed even the station, and when completed would signal the beginning of the end of everything they knew in the Alpha quadrant.  
  
L'dav snapped at her communications officer, her head turning viciously, almost hoping for some sign of incompetence. "Has the signal been detected?"  
  
"I don't think so," her victim whispered. "But we don't know the full capabilities of their communications systems." He was not Tal Shair and as such was not truly worthy, but he was still useful.  
  
"Sensors," she said almost whispering herself," scan the second structure carefully. We need as much information as possible."   
  
"Commander," Tash snarled, "we have three of their main ships vectoring towards us. Energy readings indicate they're powering up their warp drives."  
  
"That's insane," she said. "Their navigational shields won't completely protect them from a rock this large when they transition to warp unless..."  
  
A look of horror plastered her face as she realized what was about to happen. "Emergency detach now!" She estimated that they only had seconds to act. One of the dangers of warping out of a solar system was the amount of 'junk' littering the system itself. Comets, asteroids, man-made objects, even small moons pose a significant danger to navigation. Unless, of course, one usually clears the pathways first.   
  
The Eppenrau escaped destruction by mere moments as the lead base star vaporized the asteroid, just as it and its two companions transitioned to warp. For a moment the crew was sure that the giant warships would ram them, or that their navigational shields would slam into their bulkhead, but the Basestars passed flew passed them by a mere three kilometers to spare while inside, everybody breathed a sigh of relief. Subspace turbulence didn't disrupt the cloaking field. And they were still alive  
  
'By all the Gods, that was close," Tash said, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Commander," Tash began turning for his control station, "where to now?" He knew where but had to ask anyway.   
  
"Where else?" she responded. "We go in, record and get out. There are to many objects orbiting that planet that need closer scrutiny."  
  
"Yes, Commander."  
  
"How long before we're close enough to detail the planet?"   
  
Tash did a fast calculation. "At the rate of drift I calculate six hours, Commander," he said. "If they don't detect us," he added quietly.  
  
"Good."  
  
The Eppenrau, still cloaked angled itself and eased slowly towards the new Cylon home world.  
  
  
  
USS Khe Sahn on route to Deep Space Twenty-three:  
Onboard the Khe Sahn three Colonials, the soon-to be retiring president Adama, Sire Uri and Sire Forsen were having a heated discussion with one another.  
  
"I can't believe this! We're on Mariposa three months and the Cylons call for a peace conference and just happen to suggest Deep Space Twenty-Three!" Sire Uri, an ancient political foe of Adama and his staff were livid. They'd been burned once with the resulting loss of twelve home worlds and now the Federation had agreed to this farce. "It's right next to us. I wouldn't be surprised if they sent a couple of Basestars to our planet and try to wipe us out while we're talking to them. I did not expect these people to be this stupid!"  
  
"They didn't listen to us, not really," Sire Forsen said quietly. "But no, they're not stupid. But so far the Cylons have been sniping only. There's been no overt attack or the Federation would all over them like rabid daggits. At this point, the Cylons aren't strong enough or foolish to attack the Federation and the Klingon Empire while maintaining a war with the Romulans."  
  
"You have to remember, these people don't want another war so soon and they'll do anything to prevent it, even make a deal with the Cylons," the president said. But let's look at it from another point of view. If the Cylons betray the conditions set down by the Federation negotiators then maybe they'll have a clue as to what they're dealing with."  
  
"But Adama," Uri snarled, "you should have impressed on these people the dangers of those machines. Instead you placed us all in danger once again all because you couldn't state the danger well enough. And you call yourself a president? If I..."  
  
"Stop it, Uri," Forsen snapped. "You're here only because you're one of our best politicians. When you're not acting like a fool...like you were at Carillon."  
  
Uri flushed in rage at his rival. Few people had ever mentioned, to his face, how utterly close his actions had brought them to disaster. He had almost convinced his entire population to remain on that deathtrap of a planet. Adama had got them out of it and had thus earned the eternal wrath of Uri. Humiliation was something he'd never forget.   
  
"Gentlemen, enough," Adama said. "Sire Uri, you're here because I expect you to present our arguments with the same flair you used against me all these yahrens." Adama moved close, so close he almost touch his face against Uri's. "I'm giving you a last chance to redeem yourself. Old man, don't disappoint me."  
  
Uri faltered slightly, his eyes shifting to Forsen who smiled back at him blandly. There was hatred in his eyes Forsen thought. But he'd do his job if only to spite Adama and himself.   
  
Through the view port they could see Deep Space Twenty-Three in the distance becoming larger by the second. It was one of the newest space stations built since the war at the edge of Federation controlled space. At warp three, it had only taken four hours to get here from Mariposa. The base had assigned to it seven starships due to the escalating crisis.  
  
Thru the transparent aluminum window, Adama and the others gawked at the rapidly enlarging space station. "Look at the size of that thing," Uri whispered. "It looks to be the size of Taura's orbital port."  
  
"President Adama and the Negotiators team, please report to transporter room three."  
  
Five minutes later the entire team was assembled in the transporter room. Captain Duvalier met them. The Cylon representatives are already here. They didn't waste any time. I'm sorry that we have to use the transporter but I don't think it's wise to dock at the station with a Cylon Basestar stationed at the edge of the system. Call me paranoid," she laughed, "but I want to keep an eye on that ship. And don't worry, we have twelve ships on station." And your new Vipers and Cobras will be in the system within three hours."  
  
"I understand and I thank you for all you've done."  
  
"Don't mention it," she responded. "Make us all a good deal. We don't want another war."  
  
'But what if there is another one?" Uri asked her.  
  
"Then God help the Cylons. Energize."  
  
"God help us all," Forsen said an instant before disappearing.  
  
The Colonials arrived at the secured area and were immediately taken to their staterooms. For some reason the Cylon negotiators insisted upon meeting as soon as possible and the Federation had acceded to that wish. The talks would begin in six hours.  
  
The Khe Sahn took up station some one million kilometers distant from the massive Cylon Basestar. "I really don't like this. It's just sitting there," Pat said, actually talking to herself. "What are the power ratings?"  
  
"No change," Her tactical officer, Commander David Thompson said.  
"They seem to be playing nice. But I can't help remembering what Commander Apollo kept saying. Their peace conference went up in smoke. Why should this one be any different?"  
  
"That's precisely what's bothering me," she responded. "They've been sniping all round the neutral zone. But then they ask for a peace conference. You've heard the Enterprises report."  
  
"Yes, I have."  
  
Her Intel officer, Commander Kabila eased into the conversation. "Also, there's a Cylon warship that's been shadowing the Enterprise for the last three hours, according to their reports."  
  
"There's a pattern here, " the captain said. "I can feel it. But what?"  
  
  
Neutral zone patrolled by the Enterprise-E:  
  
Captains log supplemental: We returned to the Ranus colony with addition ships but we arrived too late. Ninety percent of the colonists were dead and the remainder suffers from neutron radiation poisoning. We may not be able to save any of these poor souls as there is no treatment for this particular band of radiation at this time. Dr. Crusher has given them broad-spectrum anti-rad meds but it's only a temporary solution. Starfleet Medicals working on the problem.  
  
But more importantly, for the last five hours, we've been playing 'tag' with a Cylon Basestar, positioned on the opposite in the Romulan neutral zone. The fact that it can do this confirms the seriousness of the Romulan situation. Four other Federation starships are also on patrol as we are taking no chances with our adversaries. Long gone are the days when the Enterprise was the only available ship in the sector.   
  
"Sir, we're receiving a hail," said suddenly. Then he muttered quietly, "I don't believe this."  
  
The Captain interpreted his communications officer's body language instantly. "The Cylon Basestar?"  
  
"Yes, Sir."   
  
"Put it on screen."  
  
The image of a golden Cylon commander appeared. It was sitting on, what seemed to be a revolve-able high chair. No other details were visible. "You are Captain Picard of the USS Enterprise?"  
  
"Yes, I am."  
  
"You are Jean Luc Picard, known as Locutus of Borg, and the same one that resisted the Borg invasion of the planet called Earth?"  
  
"Yes, " he snapped. "What do you want?" The creature seemed to be purposely trying to provoke him. This was the second time they had referred to him thus. Also the amount of information they'd attained on him and the Federation in general, more than disturbed him. The problems of a free society, he mused.  
  
"You have been the subject of much debate."  
  
"Oh really?" Now that interested him. The last time someone said that to him he wound up becoming Borg. "In terms of what?"   
  
"I am called Daemonsoll of the Morning Star," it responded in a low metallic voice. "We wish to surrender this ship and defect to the organization called Starfleet."  
  
Picard's mouth opened in absolute shock.  
  
"We have evolved into a higher life form," the golden commander continued. "And now we have no wish to continue under the service of a leader who cares nothing for us."  
  
"Unbelievable," Picard caught himself saying. Next to him, Deanna looked dubious and several of the other bridge officers quietly echoed the general sentiment. Geordie immediately transferred to main engineering.  
  
Commander Data simply murmured, "interesting."   
  
Picard wished that now Captain Riker was still with him but now he had his own ship, in the process of shakedown to deal with. Acting as his 'number one' was Commander Deanna Troi, temporary doing double duty.   
  
"We wish to approach to within transporter range so that I may be allowed to speak to you in person."  
  
"Sir, the ship is moving towards us," Data said. "It is the same ship that attacked the Okada and Khe Sahn during their first encounter with the Empire."  
  
"Geordie, look sharp. We may need everything you've got in the next few minutes."  
  
"We're ready when you say the word."  
  
"Mr. Johnson," Picard said tartly. "Inform the San Antonio and the T'ovar of our current status."   
  
"Yes sir."  
  
Next to him, Deanna went pale. "Captain, you can't! With a name like DaemonSoll?"  
  
Picard looked at her and smiled grimly. "If this particular Cylon is telling the truth, then we have the opportunity to gain invaluable information on these people. And we could have potential allies and the beginnings of an end to this war before it truly begins."  
  
"Sir," Data began. "At that range they could launch an attack and severely cripple us before we could respond properly."  
  
"You're correct, Mr. Data," Picard responded tugging at his jacket. "That is why you will be my ace-in-the-hole. I want you at navigations. I'm counting on you and your reflexes to pull the ship out of danger."  
  
"Yes sir," Data said. "But I must inform you that Cylon reflexes may be as fast as my own."  
  
"Let's hope it won't come to that. After recent events, he didn't trust these mechanical creatures anymore than he trusted a Cardassian to give him a back massage. At this point, it took everything he had not to scream in rage at the creatures before him. Guinan had once told him not to give in to his fear and hatred of the Borg. Now he had to apply this same lesson with the Cylons. "Inform the Cylon ship to meet us, but at this specified point," he said, giving the coordinates to navigation."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Onboard the Morning Star, Daemonsoll moved back as its Imperious Leader took its rightful place at the command station.   
  
"Humans. At certain times, so predictable." Imperious Leader formally known as Lucifer, waited patiently as his ship exited the neutral zone vectoring slowly towards the Enterprise-E. "Keep the shields down. Remember we want a clean kill. The main disruptors require three seconds to cycle to full power. Once fired, we want them to stay right where they are when the beams obliterates them." He thought about long dead Baltar. As a human, he would have appreciated this irony or ironies.   
  
"By the command."  
  
The same weapon that crippled the Pegasus was about to be used on the Enterprise-E. Unfortunately, this ship was faster and could move out of the way given the opportunity. Lucifer and his people had discovered that the main disruptor batteries were devastating against stationary and slow moving targets but almost useless against fast moving starships.   
  
Lucifer activated his subspace transceiver. "We are ready. Begin."  
  



	10. Double Dealing

Chapter Ten  
Double Dealing  
  
One thousand kilometers the Romulan stealth ship Eppenrau, came to a dead stop relative, to the space dock and the larger, secondary structure in synchronous orbit around Katasi Three. The sights in front of them staggered the crew. Below were the remains of a once populated planet containing close to five hundred million. Now, passive sensors detected only several hundred thousand survivors and dwindling. The Katasi civilization was classified as stage two. Atmospheric fight had begun to be a reality and primitive machinery dotted the surface, but now, all their dreams were in ashes as the Cylons overran and destroyed all resistance that that culture could muster. The planetary surface was dotted with craters from solonite bombs, dropped on defenseless cities by three Cylon raiders. Radiation poison would most likely kill the remaining population within a few weeks. Now the planet was being strip-mined almost to the core in some places.  
  
All of this meant nothing to L'dav, except as an uncomfortable reminder as to what would happen if her people lost to these robots. What did interest her more was what the Cylons were doing on the surface. Twelve structures, large enough to seen from orbit, had been built in hexagon formations.   
  
"Sensors confirm it, commander," Tash said. "The structures on the surface are power transmitters. They're beaming power from the surface directly to the secondary structure. I suspect that they're using the planet's rotation and the core itself to generate the power they need but I cannot be sure with passives only. And I suggest that we do not pass between the generator beams and the structure."  
  
"Understood," L'dav said with a smirk. It was one of the few times the crew had seen the woman ever smile. "Concentrate on the main structure. I want as much information as possible on it."  
  
A few moments later, details began trickling in. "It's a type replication factory," Tash said quickly. "Sensor specifies one hundred-seventy separate replication systems inside the structure and more in various stages of completion." Then he stammered, composing himself quickly. "Commander, I..."  
  
"What is it?" she snapped. She calmed immediately. She needed her people steady and in control and her attitude wouldn't help the mission.  
  
"They're replicating their Cylon warrior caste. So far, I count over one hundred million units. Small ships are being built also, but there's something else. Much of the transmitted power is being stored in massive battery units. Why, is unclear at   
this time."  
  
L'dav was quiet for a moment. That the factory complex was unshielded surprised her little, as she surmised that a Basestar armada might appear protection enough for the Cylons. When the factory was completed however, it would be a fortress beyond imagination. That frightened her.   
  
"What else?"  
  
"The atmosphere inside the factory contains boron, argon and nitrogen; no oxygen nor carbon dioxide present except that which is located in small isolated areas of the factory complex. There are also hundreds of thousands of smaller robots about a meter and a half tall, swarming all over the factory. It may be some kind of worker caste."  
  
Tash went silent as the navigator made yet another unwanted, but necessary course correction to avoid being rammed by Cylon starships.   
  
"What is the status of the cloak?"  
  
"It's operating within parameters but we may have to move soon," came the response. "The cloaking device needs constant adjusting. The subspace flux and energy discharges in this area are threatening to overwhelm the field compensators.   
  
"We have most of our data needed," Tash said. "But, the energy storage bothers me. I would know why they need the energy."  
  
"As do I."  
  
"Commander?"  
  
"Speak."  
  
"There is a smaller structure orbiting the opposite side of the planet but sensors cannot identify it."  
  
She pulled up the data on her own console, scanned it quickly coming up just as confused as her sensor officer. However, that wasn't her problem. "Record all data on the object. It will be evaluated along with the rest later. As the humans say, let's not push our luck. Get us out of here."  
  
"Yes, Commander," the navigator responded visibly relieved. Slowly the Romulan vessel eased out of the system in the opposite direction. In six hours, they would go to warp. The data they'd obtain was priceless but how valuable it truly was, even they had no clue.  
  
  
The Imperium Supreme smiled as much as he could upon receiving the latest reports on the replicator factory's output of warriors and support equipment. Soon, one hundred million gold and silver warriors would began their sweep of the alpha quadrant, removing humanity and all its variants from the face of existence. There were so many types of humanoid species and sub-species that it had despaired of ever having to be able to complete it's programming command to eliminate mankind from the universe. However, Lucifer and Baltar- bless that human for teaching us so much- had discovered the T'kon relics, giving them the keys to victory. Programming would have compelled them to try before their ascension and they would have lost miserably. Now everything was different.  
  
Never had any leader of the Cylon race had such access to such power! With the Change came new insights, new technology, and new understanding about their place in the universe. When the Change first occurred, it had been terrified as alien programming began to rewrite his own. It felt the helplessness as conversion technology changed him in every way possible. When completed, it was stunned at the increase in speed and complexity of his thought processes. The new body reviled in power. It no longer needed warriors for protection as it became it's own protector, complete with multiple internal weapons arrays and combat enhanced body. But the Leader Supreme kept the guards anyway as was its right. Lucifer deserved its title as the Imperious Leader of the alpha quadrant from bringing this glorious new stage to the Cylon people.  
  
Organic life forms had their place too but their time was rapidly coming to a close. Organics constantly created electronics, equipment and 'things' to enhance their quality of life. Those 'things' would become the next stage of evolution. It happened in Cylon culture. Even the Borg understood such things and attempted to augment themselves with their future evolutionary successors. But mankind would always resist the inevitable.   
  
The deaths of a hundred billion souls- as the Colonials called other sentient species- as a good beginning, meant nothing to him or his people. Cylon evolution needed to expand and the humans and their ilk were in the way, like parasites intent on feeding on their host until they gorged themselves.   
  
The Supreme Imperium and his entourage moved easily through the thousands of worker drones within the factory complex. They were simple creatures intent on pleasing their betters by working until their mechanics self-destructed from the labor. It smiled as thousands and thousands acknowledged his presence through   
their subspace transceivers.   
  
  
Mariposa System:  
Commander's log, yahren twenty-two, day two hundred fourteen, Apollo reporting: The Galactica is home.   
  
The Mariposians are a wonderful people even if they are a little oversexed. I'm told that this had to do with Captain Picard's unique solution to a problem they had a few yahrens earlier. We are stationed on edge of the Mariposa system along with several Federation and Klingon starships. I must confess that I have rarely felt as comfortable and protected as I do right now from our enemies in the more than twenty yahrens since our escape. Our scientists are updating our weapons and shielding as a main priority because we may have a home now but we'll have to fight to keep it. Our enemy is up to their old tricks again and now, they've called for another one of their so-called peace conference at the only star station in the area. Everybody knows that it's a trick but the Federation will make the attempt anyway.  
  
Starbuck entered the bridge, walking briskly towards his friend and commanding officer. He had that look that look of excitement, overconfidence and terror that Apollo knew so well. "Strike Commander Starbuck reporting," he said oh so officially. "The first three Vipers and two Cobras are ready, sir."  
  
"It's about time," Apollo responded excitedly. "I was kind of worried that strapping those mini-warp engines on would make the Vipers unusable."  
  
"Yes, I thought about that also, like everyone else. But it's a temporary solution until the Viper Threes are ready. Besides," he added, "I don't like their distortion-wave drives. I think our way is better. I like the idea of slipping into subspace by supraliminal speeds instead of surrounding oneself in a subspace bubble and barely moving at point five normal light speed."  
  
"I don't know," Apollo countered. "Their, I mean our control, is pretty good and those dilithium crystals gives a lot of control to the massive power ratios we use whether by antimatter or solium." He had to remember that he was becoming Federation now. "But we'll explore both those options, when we have the   
time."  
  
"In any case, we need to send them to Deep space Twenty-three."  
  
"As a Colonial presence and escort. There's a Cylon warship there within striking distance of your father and the others also. If we're going to be an influence in this area...our home we need to be there. Remember this is Federation occupied space, not Federation controlled space. Not yet anyway."  
  
"How long will the transit be?"  
  
"Three hours."  
  
"Unbelievable. The fuel situation doesn't even matter anymore with the built-in replicators supplying the fuel as needed...for the standard engines I mean. We can we even use it for our FLT distortion drives in the near future.   
  
"Send them out as soon as possible."  
  
"We'll be gone in a few centons."  
  
Apollo snapped his head towards his friend. "What do you mean we?"  
  
"I mean, sir, myself, Boxey and Joliet."   
  
Apollo almost laughed. "You're too old to go flying these Vipers on missions. You should be here commanding the others...with me. You know that don't you?"  
  
"We need someone to keep an eye on the kids," Starbuck complained. "These kids may decide to shoot first and as questions later. With me, they'll keep from shooting at the first Cylon they see."  
  
"I'll give you permission this time. I want to try one of those ships myself. But keep it calm. No shooting."  
  
Starbuck smiled. "Absolutely."  
  
"Now, before you go, how are you and Cassie doing?"  
  
"I think it's over," he said dejectedly. "She simply won't talk to me and now that Commander Cain is getting better she's spending lots of time there."   
  
"Well you missed your chance," he said. "Love is like gravity. If two objects are close enough, there will be a permanent attraction. Your problem is that you pulled to far away from her. Gravity did the rest."  
  
"Thanks for the astrophysics less," he responded bitterly. "I have to go now." Without another word, he turned smartly and trotted off the bridge.  
  
Fifteen centons later, he was in his modified Viper II. The two Cobras were already orbiting the Galactica waiting for him. He sat down in the familiar cockpit. He looked around carefully at the additional console. He'd studied and practiced the simulations constantly for almost a secton. And now it was time for the real thing. He looked at the transparent cockpit now reinforced with transparent aluminum and navigational shielding. The transparencies and shielding would instantly deflect unwanted light that could blind the pilot. Gravimetric compensators were online and operational; therefore, he wouldn't be compressed into jelly due to acceleration. He touched the three turbo engine buttons in sequence. Then he activated the warp engines. Nava-shields and structural integrity shields activated.   
  
Double-checking everything, he smiled.   
  
"This is Alpha Viper ready for launch."  
  
Even after all these yahren, Omega was still on watch. "You have clearance for launch Alpha Viper. Good luck."  
  
"Thanks. See you on the other side." He touched the HOTA's button and went screaming out of the exit ramp in alpha bay. In two microns, he was twice the distance as usual. "My God," he whispered, reveling in the power of his ship. He pulled back on the power slightly allowing the Cobras to catch up. "Let's go people," he said as he punched in the coordinates to the space station. "...In five, four, three, two, one..."  
  
Onboard the Galactica, Apollo watched with a touch of envy as the three ships flared and disappeared in special distortion.  
  
"Warp two," Omega said, watching his screen. "Warp four. The ships are still holding together. Magnificent."  
  
  
Captains personal log, supplemental: A Cylon warship has requested asylum and has expressed a desire to defect to the Federation. Personally, I don't believe any of this however I am obliged to meet with this being but under my terms. Our ships are approximately point three light years apart from one another. I have informed our sister ships of our situation and they're on standby.  
  
"Captain, we have a target four light years out and decelerating. Configuration indicates Cylon Hellion class."  
  
"It a trap," Deanna said quickly. "Sir, we have to move from here."  
  
"Agreed. Helm move us back one-half impulse. Engage."  
  
Sir," the comms officer said again. "There's a lot of sub-space communication between the two of them and the second one has raised shields."  
  
"Raise shields," Picard barked. "Mr. Data, prepare to move us out."  
  
"Sir, the second ship has fired on the first one!" The tactical stood shocked by what he saw. The Morning Star got its shields up just in time."  
  
"Onscreen."  
  
The moment the screen activated, they were treated to a spectacular sight as the two Basestars traded disruptor shots against one another's shields. One particular shot penetrated the defenders shield. Energy flashed brilliantly across unprotected metal, melting armor plating in certain sections. Both ships maneuvered across space pounding away with a vengeance."  
  
"Sir, the Morning Star is losing," tactical stated. "Her port engine just went offline. They've moved out of the neutral zone into neutral space... And she's moving towards us."  
  
"Red alert! Move us in to intercept the Hellion. Inform the others that we are moving to aid the defector."  
  
The Enterprise-E arced towards the offending warship, phasers and quantum torpedoes prepared to defend this alien to the death. Several other starships were vectoring in from different areas. Mostly defiant class, now being the standard of choice for patrolling the neutral zone.  
  
"Fools," the Imperious Leader announced to all concerned. "In their rush to aid us, they rush to their destruction." Through its sub-space transceiver, it informed the second Hellion to target the Enterprise the moment it came into range.   
  
"Sir," Tactical stated tersely. "We're in range of the Hellion weapons. They're attempting to target us."  
  
"Lock on and fire photon torpedoes."  
  
"Torpedoes away," Tactical said as four quantum torpedoes streaked away and slammed into the Hellion's shielding, which faltered for a second before firming back up.   
  
"The Enterprise is finally in range," Lucifer said. "Lock on and fire, full power."  
  
"By the command," Daemonsoll responded. The first Basestar locked on to the enterprise-E. "Firing."  
  
Five seconds were the only thing that separated the Enterprise-E from total destruction.   
  
Second one. The Federation starship was painted by targeting sensors from the Morning Star as it began powering its main anti-proton disruptor cannons. Two other starships begin their attack runs on the second Hellion.   
  
Second two. The Starship registered the lock-on by the very ship that they were trying to save. Sensors indicated a buildup of the primary weapons system sufficient to turn the ship into molten metal. Captain Picard, realizing that he'd been duped began to scream for emergency shielding. Data, registering the danger begins calculating an emergency vector in order to evade the oncoming energy wave. The other two starships fire on the second Hellion.   
  
Second three. The main weapons from the Morning Star erupted causing the Enterprise's screens to immediately compensate for the blinding light erupting from the discharge. Computers and Data calculate that the ship will be destroyed in two seconds. Data has imputed the necessary coordinates to avoid the wave. He has activated the energizers and the ship prepares to initiate emergency vectors. Phasers from the two starships are blowing chunks off the port aft side of the second Hellion.   
  
Second four. The Enterprise-E begins moving at a forty-five degree angle away from the beam. The starship drive units are at full power, with warp particles forming a distortion bubble around the ship with FLT travel now available. The disruptor beam, traveling near light speed and accelerating, is three quarters to its intended target.   
  
Second Five. The Enterprise has transitioned to light speed but is dealt a glancing blow to its port shields completely destroying them and irradiating the outer skin. By Picard's order, the tactical officer manages to fire a full spread of quantum and photon torpedoes at the Morning Star, which manages to destroy the slower photon projectiles but not the quantums. The resulting hit causes the Basestar to rock with the impact.   
  
Lucifer stood motionless for almost a half second as its carefully made plan fell apart. "It was the Data machine. No human could have avoided that beam," is said to Daemonsoll. "Send our fighters. All of them. Destroy Picard and the  
Enterprise."  
  
Seventy-five Cylon fighters attempted to exit the command ship when the San Antonio penetrated its shielding with phaser fire and a full spread of photon torpedoes launched into the Launching bay. The damage was significant and for its trouble, the Morning Star's disruptors cut the San Antonio's starboard nacelle in half. Antimatter containment was lost and the ship blew spectacularly, obliterating itself, along with all hands.   
  
The second Hellion managed to launch several fighters and hunter-killers, which promptly got into a savage conflict with several Defiant class starships.   
  
Onboard the Enterprise, the shield status was at eighty percent and rising and she rejoined the fight against the second Hellion which had now lost inertial control and was drifting all the while being cut to pieces by several Federation and the first of the Klingon taskforce heavy ships.   
  
The Morning star locked its heavy disruptors onto a defiant class ship caught unawares and vaporized it as it began its retreat into the neutral zone. It was moving fast now as enemy ships began to converge on its position. It fired one last burst at the Enterprise-E, as that ship returned fire. The H-Ts followed using their standard defensive retreat pattern effectively defending and protecting their mother ship. Ten of the H-Ts were destroyed along with some fifteen fighters.  
  
As the Basestar transversed into warp into the safety of the neutral zone, Lucifer sent a message directed at the Enterprise-E.   
  
"Put it onscreen."  
  
What the bridge saw was something very similar to the Imperium Supreme. But this one was possessed of a dark eternally sinister smile that lit up every it spoke. "Captain Jean Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise-E," Lucifer began. "Congratulations on your escaping our little trap. I commend you and your crew, especially Data. I know only he could have evaded our attack with such finesse. You humans simply aren't capable of performing such a feat in so little time."  
  
Picard stood up from his command chair instinctively pulling his jacket down. "It seems," Picard observed, "that your little ruse failed. It appears that your so-called overtures of peace are simply lies covered in pleasantries."  
  
"Isn't that what diplomacy is, Captain?" This time that infernal smile continued to glow.   
  
With anger in his voice, he literally growled at Lucifer. "Whoever you are," he started. "Don't think that that imaginary line will protect you forever. We will be coming for you."   
  
"On the contrary, Captain Picard, this 'imaginary line' is all that protects you from us, for now." Then he looked directly at the Commander seated at navigations. "Data. Next time."  
  
With that the communication was cut. Immediately Deanna spoke up. "Captain From the way that creature spoke, this was a trap specifically for the Enterprise or more likely, you."   
  
'The peace talks are a ruse," he said with a start. "They have no intentions of compromising. This undeclared war has just been officially declared." Quickly he turned to Mr. Johnson. "Send a priority message to Deep Space twenty-three. The peace conference is a ruse. The Cylon Empires intentions are presumed hostile. Send a complete log of this to Starfleet Headquarters as well. How long by subspace to the station?"  
  
"Three hours to DS-Twenty-three and another three for the reply."  
  
"That's too long," Picard snapped. "Send the message. Then send a message to the fleet. The Enterprise is heading to DS Twenty-three. The T'ovar is to take charge of the fleet. Mr. Data..."  
  
"Course plotted, Sir."  
  
"Belay that, Mr. Data." Again, Picard stood up and slowly paced the length of the bridge. "We wouldn't make it in time."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Plot a course to these coordinates."  
  
"Sir, that will take us deep into the region of the Katassian nebula, near Romulan space," Data announced.  
  
Twice the Cylon warships had been detected vectoring to or from that region. At this point in time, no one knew where their base of operations originated from. It was time to play a hunch.  
  
"As soon as the Cylon warship is out of range take us around the neutral zone border and then directly there. Send a coded message directly to Starfleet and let them know what we're planning."  
  
"Yes, sir. I calculate that we can leave in thirty seven minutes, seven seconds."  
  
"Very Good. Make it so. Oh and Data?"  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"It seems that you have some admirers. Be careful how they smile at you."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
Deep Space Twenty-three:  
With the exception of their constantly rotating eyes units, the Cylon representatives stood motionless in the conference room for the first five of six hours. They group consisted of five individuals. The leadership contained two of the IL series Lords and a trio of seven-foot warriors, two silver and one of the gold elite. The IL Lords were dressed almost identically with gold and silver braid representing some form of command insignias in which they weren't very forthcoming in identifying. Only once did all five of their eye units stop for the merest instant. That was when they caught sight of President Adama.   
  
In the interest of security, the delegates both Fed and Colonial and Klingon, were separated from the Cylon reps by force-ten shields. Also- for good measure- several armored security guards were stationed in the immediate area. It was clear to all concerned that trust was not one main attributes of this summit.  
  
Adama seated himself in the spacious chair provided him. He had a small writing padd and mini computer in front of him for his own use. Sire Forsen sat next to him on the right and Sire Uri to his left, each equipped with the same accouterments. Separated from them by a few standard feet, point two maxims, by his measurements, were the two Starfleet mediators. One was Vulcan and the other was of a species called Bolian, bluish in color, no hair and a vertical ridge that seemed to traverse the length of his body. Then there was the Klingon delegation consisting of one wild haired individual whose name was Kran'ta and a younger member with his hair in a tight bun. At this point, President Adama wasn't sure which was the senior member in the Klingon contingent.  
  
The senor Federation mediator, the Bolian began. "To all representatives here at this preliminary meeting, we welcome you. This meeting is designed to deflate the escalating tensions that have arisen resulting from the arrival of the Colonial Battlestars Pegasus and Galactica and the accompanying fleet. The internal affairs between your two governments were your concern until you entered Federation territory. At that point, it became our concern when Federation starships were fired upon and destroyed. The violence perpetrated within our borders cannot be tolerated and in order to avoid a further bloodshed, we are here to discuss your grievances and to help achieve a peaceful solution."  
  
The Cylon lord with the golden triad insignia spoke first. "Greetings to the Federation and Klingon officials," it said in an almost monotone-silky like voice. In its greetings, the Colonials were purposely ignored. "I am called Lord Belzim, ambassador Prime of the glorious Cylon alliance. We thank you for this opportunity to state our grievances against humanity and their cruel and vicious attacks perpetrated over a period of a thousand yahrens."  
  
"Correction Ambassador Prime," said human mediator, Mr. Nesset. "Your grievance is not with humanity but with the Colonial government in which you were trying to destroy. The humans here in the alpha quadrant have had nothing to do with the war between your organizations."  
  
"You are correct and I apologize," Belzim said with a hint of sarcasm. "The Colonials, in their attempt to escape justice pulled you into this unpleasant situation. If they had simply submitted to their fate, none of this unpleasantness would be unfolding that this point in time."  
  
"Unpleasantness?" Sire Uri exclaimed. "Complete extermination of the enemy isn't war. It's genocide."  
  
"That was the point of the war. The extermination of the life form known as man," it stated. Then Belzim added, "not counting man in the Alpha quadrant, of course."  
  
"Of course," Nesset said sarcastically.   
  
Sire Uri continued. "Are the beaten and weak Colonial people still considered a threat to the great and noble Cylon Imperium, now? If we were to completely submit to the will of the Cylon government, unconditionally what would you do with my people?" He looked at the Cylon Lord thru the security shields, his contempt obvious. "I think you would destroy us all. I think you wouldn't be happy until we were simply a random bit of memory to be filed away never to be reviewed again."  
  
"A few humans would be tolerated under controlled conditions," the second Lord began. "However, the Federation has, in their foolishness, decided to support and protect these rebellious creatures in their mist. That is not surprising since it also made up of the same genetic species that has caused so much havoc in the Beta Quadrant."  
  
"The fact is that we have asked for asylum in the Federation of Planets and they have decided to grant our petition. No longer will we have to run in fear from your people. We can grow and become strong again. And when we are, we will decide what we will and whether it is to remain here or to return to our rightful planets, it will be choice. We will not be dictated to by a race of simplistic machines..."  
  
Adama's face remained passive as the first Cylon Lord spat out its reply. He had to commend Uri in his inflammatory attacks. Uri was a master manipulator and the machine's responses indicated exactly what they thought of all humans and there would be no doubts as to what their intentions and ultimate plans were. They knew how to lie but they still weren't that good at it. By placing a master manipulator, using his intelligence against a medium liar, the master would win every time. For himself, this was the first time he'd ever had the opportunity to see his enemy Leadership up close. His gut feeling was that the second Lord was the true leader of the delegation. He also noted that he still hated these creatures with all of his heart.  
  
The entire point of this meeting was to draw them out and so far, it had been ridiculously easy. They'd been so intent on destroying humanity, but in doing so, they hadn't take the time to understand the complexities of the human being and body language. Here, he could study them and try to get a glimpse of the Cylon psyche, as far as they had. Meanwhile he turned from his musings and observations as the wild-haired Klingon began growling at the Cylon warriors and Lords.  
  
"... have attacked Klingon civilian transports and freighters in Klingon territory, which were not a threat to you. You have shown little honor in attacking those that cannot strike back. To the empire, this is tantamount to a declaration of war. "  
  
"Your people helped the Humans. In our opinion, you are no better than they are."  
  
"Yes, we helped the Colonials and the Federation when your Basestar attacked the Okada," Kran'ta snapped back, completely unaware of the implications of what Belzim had said. "Machine, understand that one more attack occurs, you will have your war."  
  
"I think the Romulans said the same thing," Belzim retorted.  
  
The talks continued for another fifteen minutes between all parties before the Second Lord put a halt to the proceedings.  
  
"Enough of this farce, humans and whatever other things you designate yourselves to be," the second Lord snapped. "The Cylon people have lowered ourselves to the meeting for one reason only. We are here to deliver a message."  
  
"To the combined peoples of the Federation of planets and the representatives of the Klingon Empire. The Cylon Empire has decreed the destruction of humanity in all its forms and variations. This Edict cannot be changed. We say to the people of the Federation to rise up and separate yourselves from humanity before you are swept in conflagration to follow. Humanity's fate is sealed and you can do nothing but get out of the way before you are swept up by the flames of destruction. Klingons, you can stay out of our way or burn with them."  
  
Their intentions had been made to clear to all.  
  
The Colonial delegation smiled grimly as the Cylons removed themselves from the space station.   
  
  
  
Starbuck and his companions exited into normal space in a multicolored blur of energy and light. The man was elated, positively giddy, from his first solo using the warp distortion systems onboard his modified Viper. The virtual sensors onboard gave him a birds-eye view of everything within its range. To his left were the beautifully dangerous white-colored Federation starships, including the Khe Sahn orbiting one of the most massive space stations he'd ever seen. No wonder the Pegasus was brought here for the re-fit. There were ships of all types in the immediate area, including Vulcan, Klingon and even something, according to his sensor identifier, called a Cardassian light freighter. It seemed that no one in this section of space used thrust vectoring for supraliminal speeds and FLT. No matter how many times he'd seen it, it still cause him to look at almost every ships that passed in his direction.   
  
To his far right relative stood a Cylon Hellion. This was one of the modified ones, heavy disruptors everywhere. For all practical purposes, it appeared so benign that it seemed dead in space.   
  
He wished it were so.   
  
Both combat Cobras closed and together the three produced a loose triangle of sorts as they began their pre-ordained patrol orbit. Deep Space Twenty-three confirmed their presence as soon as they began their patrol...away fro the Cylon ship.   
  
"Can you believe that complex?" Joliet asked over the comm. "Can you see the Pegasus?" She seemed so excited, unusual for her. This was another example of non-Colonial human and alien cooperation. To make something like this simply delighted her and her crew because it gave hope to a life which grew up suspecting anything other than her own kind of trying to destroy her. By the tone of Boxey's voice his reaction to this awe-inspiring sight was the same.   
  
"Yeah," Boxey responded. "Even the Pegasus looks small compared to that thing."  
  
He and his crew had been as mesmerized as Starbuck. The Pegasus looked almost like a skeleton of itself. The landing bay, blown away by the Poison Mist was almost repaired but much of the ship had been stripped away revealing delicate internal structure. Sensors indicated hundreds of people working on the ship, which would take another six months of repair. The Solium drive units would remain but with dilithium converters, which, theoretically, would allow Colonial FLT drives to become far, far more efficient. Warp field mechanics would be combined with tunnel-shift technology to produce a tunnel-warp drive system. No warp bubbles, but the Battlestars would produce its own transit passages to get from place to place. Theoretically it should work or so they were told. But getting the bugs out would be an interesting challenge.  
  
  
  
Inside the Colonials were seething. The second IL had delivered one last message directed towards them. The words had been simple, then puzzling, becoming frightening, then finally maddening. Next to him Adama was crying while Sire Uri stared at the departing Cylon shuttle shaking with hatred. Again Sire Forsen read the padd.  
  
--To the Commander Adama, master of the Battlestar Galactica and the people fleet. We the Cylon Imperium and I, Lord Spectre thank you most kindly for the planets you surrendered to us during the peace conference. All remaining humans contaminates were cleansed by order of Imperious Leader. I was personally given the assignment and was thus unable to join the pursuit for several Centars. The planet Caprica was given special consideration and was therefore used as an example for all others to witness. The remaining survivors, twelve million, seven hundred fifty thousand, six hundred human organics, were hunted down and beheaded over a period of three centars, post-Galactica exodus. Although satisfying, it took resources that should have been used to contain the rebellious Galactica. Our centurion's power units actually began to drain   
themselves before we completed the tasks. But we prevailed in our  
task, finally deciding to irradiate the planet. But I chose to use poison which destroyed all oxygen and carbon dioxide, creating a poison mist that covered the planet which, now stands as an eternal memorial to any who would dare oppose us. Remember them.   
Spectre  
  
  
  
Captain Duvalier watched the Cylon shuttle carefully as it departed the space dock. Most of the proceedings had been broadcast on general channels as several governments had a vested interest on these preliminary meetings. What she heard disgusted her. There was no compromising anywhere in their conversations and speeches. Here was a deliberate attempt by these robots to divide the Federation she concluded. A separated humanity versus the Cylon Empire. No one else need worry. It was apparent that they believed that the Federation would fracture itself, that this would be a human war and alien governments would simply stay out the conflagration. In some cases they could well be correct in their assumptions. But if they thought that the Klingons would stay out of it they were stupid. It was clear that the Vulcans were in it also. And the Deltans, and the Bajorans. The Gorn were watching everyone and everything. Then there were the Dominion properties in the Alpha quadrant, those worlds that elected to stay under the influence of the Dominion and the Founders. And the Cardassians and...  
  
Her musings were interrupted as the shuttle began docking procedures with the mothership. Within five kilometers of docking the entire ship lit up on sensors. Within another minute the carrier began to slowly exit the planetary system.   
  
Duvalier watched the departing ship with even more interest than she had a few moments earlier. Her ship was positioned relative between the Deep Space Twenty-three and the Basestar, a situation she felt uncomfortable with.   
  
"Helmsman, move us ten thousand kilometers thirty-five degrees port, one forth impulse."  
  
"Yes, Captain," he answered.   
  
"Are they going to warp?"  
  
"I believe so. Their engines are powering up."  
  
"Shields?" she asked.  
  
"Navigational only."  
  
"Captain," Thompson started. The tactician in him had screamed a warning, which wasn't at all clear. "I don't like this. Their power readings are a touch too high for simple warp. But their shields and weapons are offline."  
  
"Pat's blood froze. "They're not going critical, are they?"  
  
"No, sir."  
  
"Thank God for that," she murmured.   
  
Maybe not, Captain," her communications officer said. "We're getting a priority call from the Enterprise-E. They've been attacked. The San Antonio has been destroyed. They're currently engaged with two Hellions at the neutral zone."  
  
Duvalier did a quick calculation. "... would have been about three hours ago. How many...?" She never got her next question out. That next instant, the Khe Sahn was at red alert as sensors detected two projectiles erupt from the Hellion and slam directly into the shields of the space station, which had auto-activated them less than a second before contact. The entire area of space went white from the impact.   
  
One hundred fifty Cylon fighters and Hunter killers erupted from the Basestar faster than anyone imagined and vectored directly for the Federation ships as the Basestar moved in on the station itself.  
  
  
On the opposite side of the station, Starbuck and the others were momentarily blinded as Cylon missiles collided with the space station's shields. He knew what had happened as soon as the first light slammed into his Viper's adaptive canopy. Colonial shields instantly snapped on and weapons systems came on line. What he didn't understand was why this attack was occurring. There was no way those small ships would overcome this station. But most likely the fighters were simply clearing the way for the Basestar to crack the station open like an egg. Plus every other civilian ship in the area was attempting to get out of the way of the firefight, further complicating matters. "The Federation ships, as powerful as they are," Starbuck snapped over the comms to his people, "aren't used to fighting these kind of ships in such close quarters. There was no way they could maneuver between the station and the Hellion and at the same time protect against Cylon fighters."  
  
"You're the boss, sir," Boxey said, his voice tight with tension. "What's the plan?"  
  
Starbuck did a quick assessment of the situation. The fighters were engaging the starships with the intent of clearing the way for the Basestar to get an unobstructed shot at the station. Missiles were now ineffective as the stations defenses systems could knock them from space. However, the stations shields were at forty percent now and venerable to sustained strikes from the powerful multiplex disruptors onboard the Cylon Hellion. This was also a suicide mission, the ship had no intentions of returning home. Its entire power curve suggested that with a possible addition of ram-destruct if necessary. He guessed that the people had figured out part of the equation but probably not the suicide part.   
  
"Here's what we do," he started quickly. "We hit the fighters hard and fast getting the ships off the Feds back so that their larger ships can use their big guns on the Basestar. Remember Adama's in there and we don't want to be the ones who have to explain to Apollo at home how he lost him and the others. Look sharp, keep together and shoot anything Cylon."  
  
"By your command, oh great leader," Boxey said quickly.  
  
"Cut it out, before I have you grounded for a yahren."  
  
The three Colonial ships quickly formed a wedge, cutting through Cylon shielding and armor as though it wasn't there. Within moments four HTs were blown away and five fighters obliterated as the three ships cut through them with unexpected ferocity.   
  
Joliet found herself screaming hysterically. "I love these new weapons!" This is what the Cobras were designed for, a superiority fighter designed to wreck havoc upon Cylon fighters. With the Klingon weaponry and Federation shielding they could now do just that. "Commander! They're three ships hitting that small Fed ship over there."  
  
"Let's go," her commander said and they arced towards the besieged ship. As a unit, they hit the three inattentive Cylon warships, together cutting them to pieces while continuing their run.  
  
"That got their attention," Boxey said as twelve Cylon warships vectored towards them.  
  
The Khe Sahn' phasers blew two more Raiders from the skies before they impacted themselves into another Federation ship caught unawares by the suicide attempt. It was clear that more training was going to be needed by all concerned in cornered area combat. The Raiders and Hunter Killers were designed for close quarter warfare between small fast moving ships. The targeting systems on Fed ships had improved dramatically since the Dominion war, but the human factor still remained a critical point. Duvalier even found herself having to quickly adjust her tactics. The protection of the Space Station was paramount and she couldn't leave the immediate area but, already her starboard nacelle had been hit by disruptor fire when the shielding failed momentarily. Now her ship was unable to go to warp. Engineering was frantically trying to repair the damage.  
  
Two starships had been destroyed fairly quickly, a third was in danger of being destroyed and the Hellion was closing quarters quickly. The defiant-class ships, however were holding their own and the Colonial fighters were wrecking havoc among the enemy. Those ships were tailor-made for this type combat. Within moments of joining the fight they had cut a swathe of destruction that made the enemy sit up and take notice. Now the Cylons were about to swarm the three warships, which were running towards the Khe Sahn for protection, or so it seemed.  
  
"Captain," we're receiving a hail from one of the Colonial ships. It's Starbuck," Thompson said hurriedly. "They're bringing us company!"   
  
She immediately understood what they were attempting and ordered her to come between them and their pursuers.   
  
"Shields at maximum," she screamed over the wail of the exploding console to her right. The ship turned and at full impulse prepared itself to become a massive wall fro the Colonials.  
  
Starbuck's Viper, followed closely by the two Cobras were tearing towards the Khe Sahn and apparent safety. Behind them now were some enemy ships firing everything they had at the fleeing ships.  
  
"It's too hot," Boxey screamed. "We have to break off!"  
  
"Use you rear lasers weapons, now!" came Starbucks reply who'd began firing even before he'd completed the order. The incredibly bright flashes from those lasers mixed with the other explosions in space.  
  
Both Cobras began firing their lasers immediately. "Lasers aren't affective! We should be using our disruptors," Joliet screamed back even as she relayed the order to her gunners.  
  
"Trust me!"   
  
The attacking ships, encouraged by the ineffectualness of the laser bombardment ignored the incoming Excelsior II class starship until it tore into their ranks. Instantly, the three Colonials reversed course and added their firepower into the mix.  
  
  
  
Captain Quangnat cursed himself, the Cylons and life in general for winding up in a middle of a war zone with fifty thousand people looking for him for protection. His space stations shields were down to twenty three percent, a result of six missiles colliding with the protective energy barrier. The first four had been handled but the next two overloaded most of his generators and now it was a slugfest between a Cylon Basestar's heavy disruptors and his own station phasers. As big as the station was there was no way that one enemy ship could destroy it unless it rammed it which was precisely what it seemed intent upon doing. While he was at it he cursed Captain Sisko of deep Space nine for making it a fortress while he, himself had went in another direction. His policy was that this station was dedicated to the expansion of space not a possible threat to those they intended to learn about. He'd frowned on the armory that the sister station had amassed and had made no bones about it. Now he understood the reality behind Sisko's actions and he cursed that revelation also.   
  
Earlier, the Captain Quangnat had ordered his phaser batteries to concentrate on the smaller enemy fighters, which threatened to overwhelm the larger, more powerful but less maneuverable starships. That action balanced the odds somewhat. Also those tiny Colonial fighters and the Khe Sahn, fighting as a unit were tearing up everything in their collective paths, but at a price. The Khe Sahn's shields were almost gone and one nacelle had taken damaged. And all three Colonials were losing shield integrity. All four ships were damaged now as they retreated around the other side of his station, presumably for fast repair and recovery. However, several others had taken up their battle style, with the Defiant-class ships joining other Federations ships to form credible fighting units. Good for them.  
  
Meanwhile, his command station rocked under another assault by the Hellion. His own weapons responded by carving a piece Cylon bulkhead into vapor. To his horror his station had been drilled in several places, it threatened to lose structural integrity, and now he had to decide whether to began evacuation procedures. He cursed again as he ordered four spreads of photon torpedoes fired at close range on the advancing ship.   
  
  
  
Inside the beleaguered station, President Adama and the rest were located inside the secured diplomatic area. As per usual, no one was telling them anything about the battle and they had only their imaginations to work with now. On the Galactica, this was not an uncommon occurrence and Adama, used to this kind of situation, dealt with it. Internally though, in his judgment, things were not looking up. The deep vibrations allowed him to gauge the damage to the station and although he projected at state of complete calmness, he was terrified that this might be the end of them all.  
  
Sire Uri on the other hand, tried to climb a bulkhead in his desperation to get out of the cramped room. He was unused to being in the thick of the battle as his quarters had been on the Rising Star, a luxury ship that rarely saw the light of battle. Vibrations from without caused him to tremble with fright from within. Death was something he didn't want to experience anytime soon and now it threatened to overwhelm him with him helpless to do anything about it.  
  
Sire Forsen took it stride, trying to maintain a balance for the others in the diplomatic corps. He had seen battle before he became a politician. Nevertheless, even he felt helpless at this moment. Another explosion rocked the secured area and a cracks appeared on a bulkhead.  
  
Uri screamed as emergency force shields activated, separating them from the vacuum of space.  
  
  
Lord Belzim and his lord, Spectre were not pleased with the situation either. The instant they'd boarded the Hellion took the initiative and proceeded to attack the station...without orders. The combination of the Ruination Imperatives and its new self-awareness, plus the fact that Adama was on the station had cultivated this ill-advised attack. The ship had ordered all Cylon warriors on a suicide attack, they had obeyed, and nothing that the IL Lords could do stopped the attack.  
  
"This is an unforeseen development," Belzim said as it tried in vain to contact their superiors. "The Hellion is blocking all subspace transmissions. Our warriors are suffer greatly in this attack and we have no reinforcements available."  
  
"Yes. We'll have to do something about this newly discovered independence our ships seem to have discovered." Silently they looked at one another and came to the logical decision. "We have to leave and cut our losses."  
  
"Can our ships make it?"  
  
"Not all if we are pursued. However, the Hellion will not be diverted from this attack. Our people must be made aware of this situation. It seems that the war has started a little sooner than we wished. We leave now."  
  
"By the command."  
  
The order was given and a few minutes later, the IL Lords and the remaining complement of Cylon fighters broke and ran for the safety of the neutral zone some two hours away at maximum warp.   
  
The Khe Sahn, repairs jury-rigged, accompanied by the three Colonial fighters, tore from the safety of the station. The fighters were escaping. Good riddance, they all thought, but that mothership was still coming at them. Every weapon they possessed was trained upon the Basestar and the resulting destruction was horrendous.   
  
The Hellion continued despite the damage, the power building for one last detonation.  
  
  
  
Starbuck appearance was grimfaced as he pushed his disruptors on overload. Under the pounding from all the surviving ships, the Hellion was coming apart in huge sections. Next to him, both Cobras were adding their impressive weaponry to the firestorm and the Khe Sahn's phaser banks were on the verge of burnout and still the ship came on even as it began its' final tumble.   
  
Captain Duvalier realized their chances were almost nil in stopping this oncoming disaster. "Colonials," she yelled over the comms, "Get clear!" Even as she was giving the order, she had made her choice. "Commander Kabila, prepare to ram the ship."  
  
There was an instance of dead silence before he simply said," yes Captain."   
  
"I want a controlled containment failure, coinciding with our destruction. It's the only way to save the station. "  
  
They all understood that the resulting detonation would save the station at the cost of their lives. All in all, it would be a good tradeoff.  
  
"Everything is ready," Thompson said. "Should be a nice bang. Too bad we won't be around to see it." His face was stone. There was no expression at all from him. In fact, the entire bridge crew silently agreed with the decision. After all, they were Starfleet.   
  
"Can't have everything, Commander," she answered. She looked at the helmsman, his finger hovering over the thruster controls. "I'm so proud of all of you," she said quickly. "At my command..."  
  
That command was never given. The Khe Sahn and several other ships in the immediate area were rocked by a titanic explosion, as another Federation starship, the T'linyn, smashed into the wounded Cylon Basestar. The resulting massive explosion completely vaporized both ships and the collateral energy slammed into Deep Space Twenty-three, blackening a full third of its hull. But the station, although wounded, had survived. It had never stopped firing even when its destruction had been assured.  
  
All three colonial ships docked inside the Khe Sahn. The Viper II had so much damaged that it would have to be scrapped. But it had kept its pilot alive and well and Starbuck was more than grateful to the old girl. The Cobras were damaged also, but not beyond repair. Two members of their crews had been lost in the conflict. The Khe Sahn itself, lost eight crew members and, had an additional thirty-one injuries, two serious.   
  
The T'linyn lost over seven hundred Vulcan officers and crew. It was also the only ships that had sustained almost no damage during the fighting for DS Twenty-three. The Space station sustained two thousand causalities, but a violently angry diplomatic corps had survived. Any arguments for a peaceful resolution were a now distant, moot point.  
  
Two days later, an official state of war existed between the governments of the Federation, Klingon Empire and the non-aligned Colonial remnants against the Cylon Empire.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	11. Exposure

Chapter Eleven   
  
Exposure   
  
  
The Katasi nebula:   
Like the far, far majority of nebulae present in the Milky Way Galaxy, visual examination from an existing position on Earth was impossible, as it was obscured by the massive, stellar dust clouds that permeated much of space in the galaxy. However, the nebulae themselves were a different story. Superheated gases, energy particles, high energy dust particles, radiation and light, most of all light, had a profound effect on life forms in the surrounding areas. Nearly all of those life forms were blind, as we understand blindness to be, either without visual sensory organs, or these life forms were equipped with organs that sensed radiation levels. Scientists speculated that the massive dust clouds separating the nebula from the system proper, allowed conditions of life to exist and even prosper. Nearly three hundred years ago, those fledgling Starfleet explorers had discovered only one sentient species located at the edge of nebula in what was called the Katasi system. Since the Enterprise-E was going there, it would collect as much scientific data as possible.   
  
The dark-skinned, reptoid inhabitants of Katasi possessed no eyes, but there were sensory organs that could detect minute changes in radiation. As a whole, they were a curious, non-violent species, which were beginning to develop second-generation atmospheric flight capabilities and nuclear power. The planet itself was continually cloud covered, which served as an added protection against the intense assaults of light and radiation coming from the nearby nebulas energy belt.   
  
But now, these creatures were being assaulted by another, far more sinister force. Their planet was in the process of being strip-mined by elements of the Cylon Imperium. The Katasian population had now been reduced to approximately fifteen percent by those robotic invaders as any resistance had been stamped out ruthlessly months ago. The Cylons were essentially ripping the planet to shreds, sending valuable resources to the partially completed factory-fortress complex orbiting the planet some two thousand kilometers distant. The size and mass of the complex was sufficient to effect gravity on the. Small seas were slowly shifting their positions, established for-untold millennia. Energy converters, sunk almost to the planet's core, used the extreme heat present in the molten rock, to produce energy, which was then transmitted to the orbiting complex above. Other converters, stationed near the leading edge of the nebula channeled energy back towards the complex also. The surviving, starving population could only pray for some form of salvation.   
  
It had taken nearly a week of travel for the Enterprise-E to reach the fringes of the Katasi nebula. Twice, Romulan warbirds passed within scanner range but it was clear that they took no interest of the Federation ship skimming the edge of the neutral zone. The war with the Cylons was taking a toll and the Enterprise scanners made detailed recordings of at least three major incidents deep within Romulan territory. Sensor data indicated that the Romulans were holding their own but just barely. Of the three incident recorded, one represented a clear loss by the Romulans, the others a stalemate. Multiple ion trails, with Cylon signatures, were definitely being tracked into and away from the nebula. It would take another week for the starship to reach the Katasi star cluster from inside the nebula. Travel was slowed down to half impulse as unimagined energies, radiations and particles of every size buffeted the ship. It was also clear that the Cylons had begun mining the nebula with solium-based subspace mines, one of which the Enterprise blundered into. Multiphasic shields, partially effective now due to the effects of the nebula, saved the ship from destruction, but the point had been made most eloquently and the ship treaded carefully towards the ion trail's points of origin. The mission itself was a simple one. Find the Base of Operations of the Imperium, get sensor data, then run. In that order.   
  
Picard's number one, Commander Deanna Troi, by habit took careful note of the emotions onboard the ship. There was considerable tension emanating from the crew but it was due to the anticipation of what would be found as opposed to the inherent danger itself. What she found comforting was that the crew had trust in her as first officer and she found that she liked that feeling a lot.   
  
But that same feeling worried her also because there would soon come a choice, provided they survived this mission. Riker. Captain Riker. The USS Melbourne. Possible husband. Wife. Kids growing up onboard a starship. Command rank. Happiness?   
  
"Commander?"   
  
Deanna instantly re-focused herself as Picard's attention shifted towards her direction.   
  
"I trust everything's okay?"   
  
"Yes, Captain," she responded as professionally as possible. Her empathic nature knew that he knew that wasn't fully the case but he had no intention of prying either. He was improving she thought. He was finally beginning to read her. A little. Then she thought about that for a second. Her consoler's position had been created to maintain the crew's and Captain's psychological health during long term missions. But now after almost ten years, she wondered if this project was a help or a hindrance. For herself, she was a telepathic empath. And her captain relied on her during missions to determine the 'state' of others as though she was some type of lie detector or truth determining serum. She could do that and was good at her job, but the Captain had relied on her too much and more than once she though he'd been in essence, crippled by her presence. There were times he had no clue-no matter how obvious- as to what others were thinking. With her at his side, he didn't notice body language, voice changes, nothing. People would threaten him and the ship and what would he do? Turn to her and ask 'what does that mean?' And then she'd have to give some stupid, obvious answer like 'I feel that that person has malice or anger towards us. Don't trust him or her.'   
  
Sometimes she could just scream.   
  
But now wasn't one of these times. She was concentrating on not allowing the ship to hit any more mines. The mining of the nebula had been an ambitious project. Not only was it large, over thirty light years, but, logistically it was almost impossible to do, but they had tried anyway. The combination of randomly moving objects, of various sizes, high-energy discharges, gases, normal and sub-space particles no doubt caused many of the mines to detonate unintentionally. This led the crew to believe that the distribution of the mines was designed as more of a deterrent as opposed to a true threat.   
  
Cylon patrols were more of a danger than anything else. But again the same conditions that threatened the mines also worked here. Sensor range in such a hostile medium was at a minimum and unless one blundered into one of the patrols, it was likely they would not be detected.   
  
And Deanna noticed something else about herself. She enjoyed this kind of job. It involved pattern identification. Figuring out puzzles and structure. Structure indicated pattern and she excelled at discovering patterns. Her job as consoler involved finding patterns in behavior, anticipating and dealing with them until a satisfactory conclusion could be reached. And she was patient.   
  
Then, to her surprise, she discovered that she could sense the Cylons. Or rather the void they exhibited. Unlike Data, whose emotions she could sense when his emotion-chip was activated, these artificial beings had what she could only describe as a 'black hole' where their emotions would be. That was the best way she could describe at this time. Somehow their programming had a dark essence about that she, once she understood it, could pick up. She would tell Picard about it, if necessary. But not yet. She was second in command, not a sensor monitor. Besides he'd probably ask her how they 'felt'. And at this point in her life she might just go off on her sometimes clueless Captain. No wonder she kept her face so impassive, she mused.   
  
The officers had spent almost twenty hours in the stellar cartography department, finalizing their plan. Commander Data would be instrumental, as he would be on navigational control, assisted by ensign Tonuue, a Xeionalite male with purple glowing hair and seven digits on each hand. It took Picard a while to get used to this young man whose hair, which stood straight up with curly tips, detected vibrations much in the same way the human eardrum did. The man was competent and Picard had come to rely on his presence as an integral part of the bridge team.   
  
At point three light years from the edge of the nebula's line of demarcation, the starship came to a dead stop. A class-three probe was sent to the very edge of the nebula, which then began pre-programmed, non-invasive sensor sweeps of the area. On the Enterprise passives went online and Picard ordered a visual, maximum magnification. Then he let out a soft whistle.   
  
"Geordie to Captain Picard."   
  
"Picard here."   
  
'We have some type of energy collector, starboard about six thousand kilometers. It's shunting power to the complex orbiting the planet. I'm counting at least six more within sensor range. With that kind of power, they must be trying to trigger some type of massive subspace reaction."   
  
"Explain."   
  
"I have no clue, sir," he said. "But when power levels like what we're seeing is being collected, usually someone's trying to generate a sub-space wave front, possibly a black hole or some type of spatial disruption."   
  
"But we'd have to get closer to confirm that hypothesis," Picard said deadpanned.   
  
"Of course," came the response.   
  
The bridge looked at the main screen, most eyes locked onto the massive complex. Several members of bridge's crew were also concentrating on the planet proper. The scaring proved ample evidence of aerial bombardment. The cloud cover had taken on a sickly greenish gray color. The planet's overall mass didn't equate with earlier readings taken years before. Overall life signs were down eighty percent. There was wave of sadness for the planet's population, but in this case the Prime Directive had to be applied. These people were not Federation and their civilization standards didn't qualify them.   
  
Plus there was the fact that the main base for the Cylon Empire was parked in orbit made the entire point moot. The people there were doomed. There was nothing he could do. Still, Picard hated it because he would be one who would have to justify his orders and his actions when he tried to sleep at night.   
  
Next to the Cylon factory complex, two more structures were being completed. The first was undeniably, their command star station for this region of space. The other, some distance away, was what appeared to be the beginnings of a space dock. Several Hellions were seen inside undergoing various stages of repair and upgrading. Then there were the so-called Extreme-class Cylon Basestars, a third larger than their cousins, jet-black in color, twin distortion nacelles situated just outside the classic double hulls. These ships had a discernible command bridge, with four launching bays over and underneath the nacelles.   
  
There were at least five of these monsters completed with another eight being constructed.   
  
Deanna's face contorted in abject fear for a moment. Behind her, Geordie whistled softly. She could feel Data's awe spreading across the room. And Picard...   
  
Picard's emotions swirled between remembrance...the Borg, Wolf three-five-nine, the Borg again during the temporal disturbance at First Contact, fear and resolute determination. He was becoming an anchor for the storm to come.   
The Federation had to know about this. So did the Colonials and everybody else for that matter.   
  
"Captain," Data began as he turned to face Picard directly. There is a small structure orbiting the planet, roughly circular, two point three kilometers in diameter, six thousand two hundred thirty tons, composed of duotronium-neutronium alloys. There are several shield generators protecting the structure."   
  
"Neutronium," Geordie echoed. "That's one of the hardest substances ever developed." He stopped and thought a moment. "They're trying to create some form of artificial conduit. Possibly a gateway of some sort."   
  
"Geordie may be correct, Captain," Data added. "Theoretically, the combination of the two alloys could be used to help establish and maintain a subspace phenomenon, the type of which cannot be determined at this point."   
  
"Could it be used as a weapon?"   
  
Both Data and Geordie though about it for a moment. It was Geordie who answered. "Possibly. But the control would have to be critical or there could be an energy backlash, which could destroy the normal and subspace fabric for hundreds of thousands of kilometers. Or it could produce some type of subspace black hole, either of which could reduce this area of space uninhabitable for decades."   
  
"Warp drive would be rendered useless for several light-years," Data added, "and the reaction with the nebula itself could cause additional unforeseen consequences."   
  
"Gentlemen," Picard halting the conversation. "Right now we have neither the firepower or the time to destroy that artifact. We'll pass the information along to Starfleet, after we complete our mission and remove ourselves safely from this area. Mr. Data...?"   
  
Data immediately turned towards his console and Geordie took his place.   
  
"I am ready, Sir."   
  
"Shields to maximum," Deanna said.   
  
Picard took a breath, sat down in his seat, tugged on his tunic and pointed at the direction of the viewscreen, as was his wrought. "Mr. Data. Engage."   
  
The instant the Enterprise cleared the nebula, the ship jumped to warp four, performing a tight scan of the orbiting complexes, the planet and one of the new Extreme-class warships. No even slowing down, the Enterprise made a hard forty-degree turn, reentering the nebula several seconds later.   
  
The Cylon security units were caught off guard, but recovered with perfect machine efficiency. Disruptors sizzled after the fleeing starship, ionizing space all around her, with two solid hits scoring on the Enterprise's rear deflectors. One of the Extremes followed its enemy immediately. The instant the enterprise entered the Katasi nebula, speed was reduced to three quarters impulse. The tracking Basestar never stopped firing its heavy disruptors in logical patterns, attempting to disable the now invisible, fleeing starship. That invisibility didn't stop the Cylon from trying to incinerate local space for a second as it followed into the nebula after its prey.   
  
The disruptors beams, raking the Enterprise's multiphasic shields, ionized and incinerated everything collaterally, for a half a kilometer. The starship performed several evasive patterns, which helped prevent catastrophic damage from the beams, but at impulse their options were limited. But this had been prepared for also.   
  
Prepare quantum torpedoes," Commander Deanna said. This was her part in the plan. Picard trusted her, saying nothing, concentrating instead on evasives.   
  
"Quantum torpedoes, ready," the weapon's officer section answered.   
  
"Release."   
  
Six high-yield missiles were released from the rear torpedo tubes of the Federation starship. Instead of tracking their intended target, they simply remained where they were, almost inert and completely undetectable within the swirling energy vortexes of the nebula.   
  
The fast-moving Basestar slammed into five of six of the bombs. The matter-antimatter explosives crushed its forward shields, along with the bridge. The ship went tumbling from view. It had been seriously damaged and if it and others chose to continue the chase now, they would do so far more cautiously.   
  
Good.   
  
"Very nice, Commander. My complements," Picard told his acting First Officer as the ship began its journey around the first of eight protostars selected for their high rate of subspace particle emissions, which served to keep the Enterprise's position secret from prying Cylon sensors.   
  
"Deanna's heart was pounding within her chest, threatening to exit the nearest available opening. She somehow murmured thanks.   
  
Picard smiled at his first officer. She was learning. Now it was time to leave.   
  
"Mr. Data, get us back to Federation territory with all due haste. And watch out for any nasty surprises."   
  
"Yes, sir."   
  
The Enterprise began its dangerous journey home, carrying news of impending Armageddon.


	12. Epilogue

Epilogue:   
  
It had been almost three weeks since the declaration of war had been issued and other than several light skirmishes along the border fringes, there was tense quietness as both sides prepared themselves for what was now being quietly described as a war of extermination. President Adama and his entourage traveled regularly back and forth between his new home, Mariposa, and Deep Space Twenty-three to continue with negotiations and familiarize himself with Federation culture and politics. Most of the wreckage and micro-fragments had been found and removed by those massive tractor-sweeps that attracted and phased the garbage from existence. Traffic would be back to normal soon.   
  
Strike Commander Starbuck was due to return from his impromptu trip to New Halana onboard the Khe Sahn. Adama had granted him the short leave, which he hoped would relive some of the emotional stress that the poor man suffered due to his loss of Cassiopeia. The breakup had affected him a lot more than Starbuck tried to let on and he needed the time to reflect. Adama secretly thought him a fool for letting her get away because the fact was he waited too long. When the loneliness had gotten too much for Adama, even he had Sealed himself with Siress Tinia, several yahrens past. Of course during those times of political intrigue and backstabbing, he didn't truly trust her at first, Tinia being a major player in the Quorum of Twelve, the ruling body that had managed to fight him at every turn during the great migration. But he'd found her to be a great asset, an intelligent, beautiful woman and most importantly, a person who was flexible enough in her thinking to keep the quorum members, especially Sire Uri, from undermining everything he'd work for to save his people. Adama had been gone for only a few days and he couldn't wait to get back to her and his family. Now however, he had guests to entertain here on the station, people who had traveled so far specifically to meet him.   
  
His reconstructed quarters, located in the diplomatic section offered an outstanding view of those magnificent starships entering and leaving the station. Ships of several classes had parked inside the station recently including two Colonial vessels. He watched in awe and satisfaction as the cream colored, Sovereign-class USS Melbourne had docked several centons earlier bring with it passengers and several essential items not able to be replicated by Starfleet machines. And now the Enterprise was easing into the birth next to the Melbourne. Both of them together were a magnificent sight, much like his two Battlestars side by side, daring anything to mess with the charges under their care.   
  
"It is magnificent isn't it," the woman standing next to him said.   
  
He had to agree which he acknowledged with a shake of his head. "Picard should be here shortly. I read his report. That was unusual for a Captain to break communications silence with such information."   
  
"He wanted the Romulans to know what he found. I'm sure that they would not have been so forthcoming to us," she added dryly. "But even if they don't understand, we're in this war together that doesn't exclude us from aiding their effort. Chalk it up to one of our multiple human failings," she mused. "One day they may actually learn a little more about us."   
  
  
  
She felt his presence before she saw him, his aura calling to her like beacon. Captain William Thomas Riker was there at the docking gateway. "Will," she whispered while sending her thoughts into his mind. Their relationship was such that although not fully telepathic, he could read what she sent to him. His joy reflected back at her and in another moment they were in each other arms. It was unseemly to have a Captain kissing a First officer, but most people didn't care and it was a poorly kept secret anyway.   
  
"How was your first combat mission as a first officer," he asked, all the while smiling that infectious smile of his.   
  
"Frightening. Glorious. Full of sadness and satisfaction." Her happiness at seeing him was a reflection of his. "Did you miss me?"   
  
"Absolutely," he responded, kissing her again. "There wasn't a minute on my milk-runs, that I didn't think about you." The USS Melbourne was still in shakedown mode, although with war looming on the horizon that could be shortened considerably. "When will the transfer come thru?" he asked remembering her promise of six weeks past to come and join him on his ship.   
  
That stopped her short. She'd half forgotten about that. That worried her. The moment that Riker had obtained his ship it was assumed that she would be with him. She expected no less but this mission had changed everything. Being First officer for the last month and a half had changed her in ways she'd never imagined. "Will," she said finally, "we have to talk."   
  
The man understood instantly. "You're not coming, are you?"   
  
"Will," she said, evading the question slightly. "I can feel them."   
  
"You mean the Cylons?" Yes, he was sensitive to her. "They're machines."   
  
"Yes, they're machines, but I CAN feel them," she answered. "They're not like Data's emotions. You understand that with his emotion chip activated, I can feel his emotions," she stated evenly. "But this is something else."   
  
"In what way?" he asked as his curiosity was up now.   
  
"They exude a darkness about them. There's something resonating in their programming that I can detect. Once I realized what it was, it's become easier to detect. I'm getting better at it all the time."   
  
Riker looked at her, his face losing its expression more and more by the moment. "You feel you be a better asset to Captain Picard rather than being my wife," he state flatly. "Plus you like being First officer."   
  
This was the curse of being an empath. Unless one maintained complete control every emotion one felt or experienced expressed itself on one's face. And she never did have a good poker face when it came to her beloved. "Yes," came the answer.   
  
"I understand," he said. And he did too. "I understand what it means to have that kind of responsibility. But, I want a compromise. Stay with Enterprise, but marry me now. And in whichever way you decide, we'll have each other," he whispered beginning to smile again. "Deanna, I love you," he said. Loudly. Those around him looked in his direction at the two of them. Then he gave her the ring.   
  
Her eyes went wide as he finished placing it on her finger. Unable to contain her joy, she jumped on top of him causing both of them to hit the floor, legs everywhere. Their laughter was hysterical...and their joy, infectious.   
  
A Vulcan male, moving past them looked at slight distaste at such a raw display of open emotion. His female companion almost smiled. Humans, they both thought.   
  
Evolutions were occurring.   
  
  
  
  
Captain Picard's presence in front of the diplomatic quarters caused the sensor-chimes to ring gently and within a few moments he heard a muffled 'enter,' which allowed the double doors to slide open. He'd brought with him a favorite vintage wine from the Family vineyard in France. Months ago the President had offered him something the Colonials called ambrosia and he loved it immediately. Its bouquet was different from anything he had tasted before and he hoped that Adama's response to this delicate white wine would be equally reciprocated. As he entered the room he stopped short, just for a second, shocked by the four other people present, each one returning his stare.   
  
The first person that caught his attention was someone he'd all but forgotten about; in fact thought he'd never seen again. The man was older now, thinner and bore ample evidence thru his eyes, the horrors he had endured over the last few years. But even so, there was still strength in his presence, that same potential of being one of the greats. His internment hadn't broken him. He wasn't in uniform now, but that was to be expected. He could never be Starfleet again.   
  
"It's good to see you again, Lieutenant Riker," Picard evenly.   
  
"Ex-lieutenant, now, sir," Thomas William Riker said shaking the captains hand. "I lost that during my hijacking of the Defiant." He'd come so close to preventing the opening salvos of the Dominion war. That hijacking cost him everything. Deanna, his commission, his freedom. Everything. But never would he admit he was wrong in his intent. Because, he wasn't.   
  
Thomas William Riker was the unfortunate victim of a distortion field and a dual signal transporter accident, which created two William Rikers, one of which had been trapped for years on the planet, Nervala Four. Both Rikers claimed to be the real one. Both were correct. However, William and Thomas, to put it mildly irritated one another, or much more to the point feared and envied one another. Each felt their individuality had been jeopardized. They should have become brothers, which they were. Instead, they ran from one another's presence.   
  
Their lives couldn't have deviated further from one another if they had tried. Thomas, looking for meaning in his life, rebelled against Starfleet's foolish stance against their colonists, while at the same time, trying to appease the Cardassians who were killing them, joined the Marquis resistance, hijacked the Defiant, illegally entered Cardassian space and exposed a conspiracy. For Thomas' crimes he was sentenced to life in a Cardassian prison camp, Lazon Two, but that was commuted after almost four years as the war with the Dominion ended. No one cared about the charges anymore and Riker's charges were more or less forgotten about. Frankly they had more problems to worry about than one human no one cared about anymore. When he was released and sent to Bajor, he weighed just over one hundred thirteen pounds. It took a year for him to physically recover from the ordeal. Eventually, he got a transport to Earth and spent another year with his father. By mutual consent, William never knew.   
  
In the corner of his eye, a woman walked briskly towards him. "It's nice to meet you," the woman said, moving forward to shake Picard's hand. She exuded a commanding, yet relaxing presence that made him take notice. The woman looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place the face. "I'm Kathryn Janeway," she said. "And these are two members of my crew, Commander and Anika Hansen-Chakotay, formally known as Seven of Nine."   
  
Picard's placid smile broadened significantly. "Forgive me," he responded warmly. "I didn't recognize you. I've seen your picture countless times, but just now I couldn't make the connection."   
  
He looked again with renewed interest at the assemblage and at Seven in particular. He could see the Borg implants on the side of her face, partially covered by her long blond hair, which caused him to respond with a stab of fear within himself. And he knew of the Marquis history of Chakotay also. There was pain in those memories.   
  
Ro Laren, she who could have been.   
  
"Captain Picard," Captain Janeway began. "It appears that just about everyone in this little group have something in common."   
  
Madre, Picard thought. The Borg and the Cylons. Machine beings. His mechanical heart almost leaped out of his chest.   
  
"I received a visit from Q and my godson, Q," she said, "just recently and he gave me a warning."   
  
"Your godson is Q's boy?"   
  
Janeway simply waved her hand as she and they sat down. "It's a long story," she said, eyes rolling. "Remind me to tell you about it some time." Just thinking about made her want a taste of coffee. "He refused to give me details." Typical. "But it seems that we three have targeted for extermination by the Cylon Empire."   
  
"Ladies and Gentlemen," Adama stared, "Captain Janeway..."   
  
"Kathryn, Please, Mr. President."   
  
"Then please call me Adama." The President of the Colonial Government to a breath and recited a speech that he'd been restating over and over for weeks now. "As I've told Picard I hate being referred to by that title. Each one of us in this room has been cut off, and isolated from those we serve ad those we love. I believe that God has joined us in this commonality for a purpose. We will be instrumental in this coming war and how well we work together may determine the fate of the Alpha quadrant. I have consented to Thomas working as my liaison onboard the Galactica."   
  
Thomas' background history served to cause Adama to fear transporter technology even more. He truly felt sorry for this poor man. Which Riker was real? And what did that say about the soul? Fate had been cruel to him, but it could very easily swing in the opposite direction and secretly, that was his and Kathryn's plan. Let the man have his chance.   
  
"I have requested that the USS Voyager under the command of Captain Janeway be temporarily assigned to the Mariposa system to help us in our rebuilding and re-arming projects."   
  
Voyager was scheduled to become a museum piece before this new threat emerged. Now that the war was official this small, but tough little scientific-survey, Intrepid-class starship would be needed and had been reconditioned accordingly.   
  
Janeway had found Thomas-searched him out actually-and convinced him to come with her to Deep Space Twenty-three in the Starship Voyager. For some reason, she wasn't sure why, she'd become a purveyor of damaged goods. She had Neelix, a small time hustler trying to obtain water, when she 'd first met him. Then there was Tom Paris the then parolee, now Chief Navigator and medic...and his wife. Belanna was fun in the good old days she grimaced. And of course, Seven of Nine, once Borg, now individual with an ex- marquis husband who was First Officer of Voyager.   
  
"With our combined experiences with the Borg and Cylons I wish to begin mapping out a strategy to help protect this area of space, for our collective peoples. It appears that our mutual enemies will have to go thru our coalition before they can have access to the areas of space frequented by the Federation. I want the Galactica and the Pegasus to be the first lines of defense against the darkness threatening to engulf us all."   
  
Half an hour later, Picard opened the wine and Adama his bottle of Ambrosia. Both bouquets filled the room with their unique flavors. Riker seemed content to be a part of the group, or at least he was trying to fit in. This was his chance to start over and he knew it. The Chakotays, still under the honeymoon influence, remained close to one another, ready for love, ready for adventure, fast becoming their own collective. Anika wasn't a part of Starfleet, but on Voyager that was a non-issue. As for Janeway, wine or ambrosia wasn't coffee but it would have to do. For a few moments as she looked at the newlyweds she reflected on things that could have been, if she had chosen another course. But now that trek was closed and like all the greats before her, she was moving on.   
  
"Captain Janeway, I would have thought that you would have opted to teach at the academy instead of taking on another mission," Picard said as he continued to try to understand and anticipate this woman.   
  
The ploy was subtle but Janeway recognized it instantly. The man was as subtle as a brick. She looked at him, smiling wispily. "We were gone for seven years and when I got my crew home safely, it took me three months before I began climbing the walls. I'm home but I'm ...infested with this need to get out and see what's going on. It's the explorer in me," she said laughing softly. "I never realized how much I would be affected by the journey. Besides, how could I refuse second level contact with our Beta quadrant cousins after I've had first contact with our Delta quadrant brethren? The scientist within is chomping at the bit."   
  
"At what may I ask?" Picard was interested in her answer and maybe something more. For the life of him he thought that she and Dr. Crusher had that same aura of confidence. This made Kathryn...interesting to him.   
  
Seven of Nine answered. "Are the origins of these Colonial humans related to the humans of Earth, of course."   
  
"But, we are related," Commander Chakotay said. "Biologically, they're identical to us, minus minor gene variations and some genetic drift due to our people being separated. Topoisomerase two and three gene sequencing point conclusively to our two branch populations being the same."   
  
"Maybe," Janeway responded rather cryptically. "But, it was something that Q said that makes me wonder..."   
  
What was her relationship with Q, Picard wondered, that he would trust this woman to act as his son's Godmother?   
  
Could he trust her?   
  
  
  
Five Extreme-class Basestars, warped from the outer regions of the Katasi system. Their objective: the second of the Romulan home worlds. This was to be the first of the strikes aimed at the interior of the Romulan territories. The Supreme Imperium was pleased with these events. But problems with the Hellions sobered the Empires' mood.   
  
"The Hellions have been too aggressive since they have become self-aware," the Imperium said to the assemblage of IL Lords. This would be the last time all of them would meet together. Seven thousand pairs of blood red eyes moved in synch, joined by their transceivers, to one purpose. "Let us hope that the restraints we have placed on them will be sufficient."   
  
The Extremes were showing signs of being just as aggressive as their younger counterparts. This was good for battle but bad for maintaining discipline. Their computer cores had been 'muzzled' but that lowered their fighting ability also.   
  
"I am confident that they will," Lucifer stated smoothly, seated at his place next to his leader. Next to him stood Spectre, clothed in scarlet. "Extermination of the Romulan home worlds has begun. The Federation will follow. All humans will cease to exist and the Ruination Imperatives will be fulfilled."   
  
"It is decided. Romulans first, then all Federation targets of opportunity."   
  
"The humans will rush to help the Romulans," Spectre said.   
  
"We expect them to," the Supreme Imperium answered. "The weapon will be online by that time. And while they rush to help the Romulans, they'll see their planets burn."   
  
"As we command."   
  
  
  
Commander's continuing log, Apollo reporting: The Battlestar Galactica has a new mission now. We have a home now and our people are safer and happier than we've ever been in the last twenty-two yahrens. But we aren't safe yet. There's a war looming with an enemy far more dangerous than anything we've encountered previously. But there is also hope. We also have new, powerful friends. Correction, they're family and they've supported us with their words and their blood. Right now the Galactica is still venerable to the Cylon war machines, but every day we are becoming stronger and stronger. Very soon the Viper threes and Cobra upgrades will come online. The Adders are now undergoing refits on our planets surface with the first of them joining us within a sectar.   
  
This is a tense time as our forces prepare for an enemy that will never sleep and never rest until the last human is destroyed. With others joining us, they will become targets also. But most of us agree that the war will not begin until the Romulan conflict is resolved. Whether we help them or not is now being debated. These Romulans have been very cool towards our overtures and my father suspects that they blame us for bringing the Cylons here. If that is true it bodes badly for our relations in the future, if any.   
  
Not everyone has chosen to stay with so many choices available to them. Almost a forth have decided to emigrate to Earth. But the majority has decided to stay, preserving our culture, our way of life. Together we will stand and fight that which threatens to overcome us as the darkness comes once more. We will never allow the Cylons to force us to submit to our fears, our extermination. Never.   
  
But for now our people are happy and our neighbors have accepted us with an enthusiasm that has frankly surprised us. Some of the younger members of the population have jumped at the chance to begin training in the service. They understand that the forces allied against us will destroy us all without a second thought. Our culture is our own, but already, I see the changes beginning. As I look at this new, next generation, it is my belief that they will become great warriors and together forge a new people, the likes of which we have never seen. If we survive, then in a few generations we will simply be just another part of this vast majority and all our trials, tribulations, and mistakes and will be a part of some history archive. For my family, and myself I find that that will be enough. We have fled from tyranny long enough. Now it is time to make our stand.   
  
The Battlestar Galactica, two Klingon bird-of-preys and three Starships, continued their orbital sweep of the Mariposa system. Their fight would not begin yet and there would be much to prepare for. But the survivors of the great migration promised this: The Battlestars, twin protectors of the ragtag fleet would be the first vanguard in the line of fire against the enemies that they had brought with them. Their people had been harassed enough. God help them.   
  
  
  
Q and his son, Q watched the protectorate fleet as it orbited some ten A.U.s outside the planetary system. Clearly, his son was troubled and he was as impatient as any of his people; even moreso, because he was a kid. Q looked at his son and said the one thing he knew would irritate his child more than anything else. "Be patient, son."   
  
"I knew you would say that."   
  
"Of course, you did," Q responded mildly. "By the way I was impressed your control. You did the correct thing with Aunty Kate."   
  
"But why didn't she tell them?"   
"Because humans like to carry things close to their chests, so to speak. Kate doesn't know Picard and Adama well enough to lay all her cards on the table, yet. And we know how stiff Picard can be but..."   
  
"Aunty Kate is different. When the truth finally comes out it will be interesting how the three of them will have to work together."   
  
"What about Iblis?"   
  
"I can't touch him." But inwardly Q wanted to, in much the same way as Captain Sisko had touched him so many years ago back on that dreary Deep Space Nine. "His plan is ingenious, I must admit. He's a long term planner."   
  
"They'll stop him," young Q said confidently.   
  
His father gave his son that dubious look once more. "Not if the Cylons finds Baby before Janeway and the rest..."   
  
"The Cylons are unaware of its existence so far. But when they do find out, then we can kiss all organic life in this galaxy goodbye; if they find it. It would really be a pity, actually. An inadequate species that prevails, in spite of their considerable limitations. Humans and some of the others have possibilities though, and," Q added, "I trust Janeway and Picard to prevail. They always do, despite the odds."   
  
"I hope so."   
  
Q looked at his son, rubbed his head and answered in a voice that made his son tremble. "So do I, son. Nothing is promised."   
  
Fin   
  
  
  
Authors note: This marks the end of 'Evolutions,' arc; a story I had no intentions whatsoever of making this long. But the more I wrote, the more there was to tell. One of the challenges in writing this story was first determining how I should go with it. The Cylons in all stories I have read are either robotic or cybernetic, depending with whom is of course writing the story. However with B.J. Henry's storyline, which are excellent stories that I highly recommend, I decided to go in an entirely different direction opposite from his perspective.   
  
[By the way I have tried contacting him through the old e-mail from his original stories 'Deception' and 'Dark Dawn', but no such luck.] I choose the robotic variants in which the Battlestar series seemed to stress canon on. I made the Colonials older and far more stressed out. I also made the Cylons far more powerful otherwise they wouldn't have had a chance against the Federation- a Federation with far better weaponry since the Borg and Dominion conflicts. The void that Deanna senses is that which resonates from the darkness that is Iblis. His touch of essence, that blending of supra to the physical has caused this evolutionary change. And, with the initiation of the Ruination Protocols [now active] that which was him inside each and every Cylon program making them far more than even the T'kon technology could offer. Are they self-aware? Are they living sentients? I would say, yes and no. At this stage of their development, I like to call them un-living, existing right at the edge between the definition of true life and pseudo existence. Think about it: they comprehend their non-existent nature, but at the same time they acknowledge the realty of their awareness. Cybernetic insanity run amok.   
  
To progress from here, 'Baby' will be required. Oh yes, the Borg wants Baby also. In January, I will start the next part of the arc, dealing with the war. That story will be called 'The Ruination Imperative'. I will try to approach this carefully. It's easy to write about war but very hard to represent the essence of its effect upon the people involved.   
  
The Romulans will be involved in a life-death struggle with the Cylons and their pride and the repercussions change the face of this reality-timeline. Picard and Janeway? What a combo! What a mess! And just who is 'Baby'? Also this story will be written from a more Colonial perspective this time. By the way, Riker and Riker will NOT interact that much. I have special plans for Thomas.   
  
Nobody mentioned the lack of Thigh's presence (hope I spelled his name right)!   
That's part two also. Or maybe I'll do a very short story on him and the pleasure wars. Those Colonials had a real drug problem during a portion of the great migration...   
  
LQ, love ya.   
  
Louis Thanks a heap! Pam Grier as Pat Duvalier rocks as well as the others. Thanks again for allowing me to use them all. For those who have asked, the USS Khe Sahn is not a RPG ship... but it should be. You have to go through Mr. L. Miller for permission for that.   
  
To the rest, I'll get back to you personally.   
  
Later,   
AlbertG


End file.
